Son of Light
by Fyiad
Summary: Attacked by Vex and sent to a place far away from the Traveler, the Warlock Odin must find a way to survive in a galaxy that is strange and unfamiliar. New servants of Darkness threaten him, but with his Light and his space magic he will find a way. Well, that and bullets. Lots and lots of bullets.
1. Now This is the Law of the Jungle

" _An end? No brothers and sisters, this victory is no end to this war we fight, no more than the Traveler's great injury was an end to us. No, the darkness is still out there, plotting and readying themselves for their next great assault. This is a victory, but we must seize the advantage. Go, take the fight to them. Show them what the children of the light can do."_

-Warlock Odin addressing the Guardians of the tower upon his return from the Black Garden.

(0)(0)(0)

In the space between Venus and Mercury flew a ship. Deep within the territory of the Darkness and far from the safety of the Tower it sped, a gleaming silver and gold flash in the obsidian backdrop of space. Within its cockpit sat a man, staring at the viewscreen in front of him with a small frown on his face. He was a Guardian, a warrior who had been reborn in Light to fight in a great war. He was a Warlock, both a scholar and a fighter whose mind could shatter reality itself. He was hundreds of years old, and had spent most of those fighting enemies who most could not even imagine.

And he was bored. He had been traveling this route for weeks, searching for any sight of his prey, yet it had eluded him at each turn. Nevertheless, he had learned much from his fellow Guardians, and patience was a lesson he had learned well.

"Are you sure this information is good?"

The man turned to look at his long time companion. A small construct floated next to him. Its hull was a dark rust red, and its eye glowed a dark violet. A Ghost, a shard of the Traveler, created in its dying breath.

The man only smiled. He reached out and gently pushed the tip of the ghost down teasingly. "It should be," he reassured the ghost as it gave him an annoyed look. "I tore this information directly from that Vex mind-hub. I don't even think they're capable of falsehood."

The ghost fixed him with a level stare. "Don't get cocky Odin. You of all people should know that the Vex are never what they seem."

The man went silent. His companion rarely used his chosen name. Only when things were at their most dire did the ghost do so. Unbidden, memories of those times came to his mind. A throne of glass, a heart of darkness, a conflux of Vex minds converging into a singular being. A team whose faces and names he couldn't remember...

He shook his head to clear the memories. They weren't relevant to the current situation. "I know, believe me, but this isn't the first time I've done something like this."

The Ghost's eye flickered briefly. "Maybe not, but something about this doesn't feel right. I've got a bad feeling about this..."

Odin snorted. "You're a Ghost. How can you get a bad feeling about something?"

"You're the one who studies the Traveler, not me. If anyone knows, you should."

Odin merely shook his head. "It's not like I can take you apart, and you know how angry the Speaker got last time I tried with someone else's Ghost..."

"Didn't he threaten to exile you?"

"He did. _Three times_. He still doesn't like me. You would think restoring Light to the Traveler would put me in his good graces, but nooo."

"At least he couldn't exile you now if he tried, with the Vanguard on your side."

"True," Odin said, thinking back to his three friends. Once they were his mentors, helping to guide him on his fight against the Darkness. Since Odin had grown into his own as a fully fledged Guardian, they ceased to see him as a student and began to see him not only as an equal, but as a friend.

Zavala liked him because he had a tendency to get a job done, no matter the difficulty of the task. The House of Devils was shattered almost single-handedly by Odin after he slew both their Archon and Prime Servitor, eliminating 2/3rds of their leadership in two separate strikes.

Cayde-6 liked Odin because he was one of the few Guardians who knew how to let loose and relax. More than once Odin had helped Cayde-6 sneak out of the Vanguard room so they could gaze at the sky, talk, and drink (the fact that Cayde-6 couldn't drink was ignored by both of them). The fact that they bet more than a few times on Crucible matches didn't hurt their relationship either.

Ikora Rey liked him because Odin was once under her tutelage as a Warlock. She watched him grow into the great practitioner of Light he was now. Even now they shared an odd friendly rivalry. One day they would study and research with each other, achieving breakthrough after breakthrough. The next day they would argue and debate hotly, their shouting matches being able to be heard all over the tower. Yet these arguments never broke the oath of camaraderie they shared.

Odin smiled softly as he reached over to touch the bond on his upper arm. It was different from other warlock bonds, one that was his own unique creation. He had spent a month creating it, slowly and meticulously transcribing the sigils of all those he held dear. All his friends, allies, and those who he aligned himself with were etched upon the circlet. And at its center was a pure shard of Odin's own light.

So long as Odin carried this bond he would never forget those he had fought and bled and died for.

"Hold on," the Ghost suddenly said, startling Odin out of his thoughts. "I've got something."

Odin grinned and gripped the controls. "Must be the Vex patrol. Finally," he said eagerly. "I was getting bored just sitting here."

He stared out into the inky blackness, eyes straining to see any hint of the incoming Vex. For a second he felt a twinge of something on his extra senses. A hint of worry perhaps, or a warning of something to come.

He quashed it down. He had fought the Vex more times than he could count. He wasn't scared of a puny Vex patrol.

Then a dozen Vex warships, each three kilometers long, dropped out of FTL around him.

There was a brief second where nothing was said, where Odin and his Ghost simply stared at the massive ships surrounding them. The silence seemed to pervade through the pocket of space they were in, spreading from beyond Odin's ship to the Vex. For a short time, nothing moved.

Then Odin shattered that silence with four words.

"That's not a patrol."

Like a pistol signalling the start of a race, everything moved at once. Silvery lights ran over the Vex ships as they accelerated towards Odin's ship, weapons and systems visibly lighting up and charging.

Within his ship, Odin's Ghost began shouting, "Move dammit! Move! Or we're dead!"

That was all the reason he needed. Odin slammed down on the afterburner and his ship jumped, shooting forward and slamming Odin back into his seat from the G-forces. He grit his teeth as he felt a rib crack, then heal itself almost immediately.

Lines of solar beams began screaming through the void around his ship, and Odin banked and spun 'down.' For a brief moment he wondered if the ships' weapons used the same mechanism on the Hobgoblin's Line Rifles before he filed that thought away for later when he wasn't being SHOT AT!

His ship shook and began a tumble as one of the beams scored a glancing hit on one of his engines. He cursed and tugged at the controls, barely managing to get it back in control while dodging what seemed like a dozen other shots. One of his hands danced across the controls and there was a brief shake as he launched a volley of ten missiles.

Programmed and remotely controlled by his Ghost, these missiles flew on random trajectories towards the Vex ships, who then promptly ignored them. Why wouldn't they? The missiles were tiny, and the Vex ships were huge. It was like a martian gnat trying to attack a Cabal Colossus in full armor. Indeed, the missiles splashed against the Vex shields, doing as much damage as if they were water balloons.

However, these missiles were never meant to cause permanent damage or harm to the Vex. As they hit, they exploded and released their cargo, a highly effective mixture of stolen Vex Mind Fluid and an infusion of highly volatile and specialized Light, similar to that used by some Striker Titans.

In other words, a starship sized Vex specialized flashbang/jammer.

The Vex ships were effectively blinded as the missiles hit. Their sensors corrupted, they could only "guess" on where Odin's ship was by using telemetry from the other Vex ships. Needless to say their accuracy was significantly lowered.

Odin had no intention of wasting the advantage.

"Hold onto something!" he shouted, pulling the sticks of his ship up into a climb towards a gap between three Vex ships. "I'm going to do something crazy!"

"What do you mean hold onto something?!" his Ghost shouted back, "I don't have any arms! And how is this any more crazy than nor-"

The Ghost suddenly stopped. Its mind an incredibly powerful computer, it saw and comprehended what the Vex were doing. Why had they arranged like that. Why they had let the missiles hit them. Why they had arrived like this.

Vex don't think like humans do. They see the universe in four dimensions, seeing glimpses of the future, present, and past. They know some things which none should be able to know. The Gate Lord Qodron traveled to the Prison of Elders in the Reef because it knew that its future would help be secured if it snuffed out a light within it.

The Vex knew of Odin. He had destroyed their god, the Heart of the Black Garden. He had faced down their greatest Axis Minds and brought them low. He had fought them again and again and emerged victorious each time.

Yes, the Vex knew Odin. He was a threat towards their future. So he must be eliminated. But he couldn't be killed. No, that was risky. Temporary.

So instead they must simply remove him from the equation.

The Ghost began to shout a warning, but although it had a mind of a supercomputer, Odin had a mind of flesh and blood and light. He could not react in time.

His ship passed between the Vex ships. Their hulls glowed brightly.

Space distorted and folded.

And Odin was gone.


	2. As Old and True as the Sky

" _So, what seems like two days ago I was driving to my job in the Cosmodrome. I was a physicist, helped the computers do the math for the colony ships that were launched to the terraformed Mars and Venus. There was a traffic jam and I had pulled over to the side to see what was going on. There was a flash of light, a burning sensation, then the next thing I know this... Ghost is staring me in the face and it's at least hundreds of years later. I'm not sure of what's going on, but I do know this: I'm not in Kansas anymore..."_

-First and last entry in Warlock Odin's written journal.

(0)(0)(0)

It's a little known fact that Guardians don't have much experience with being unconscious. The Light that fuels their powers also replaces the need for sleep, food, air, and water. A Guardian can survive in a vacuum without anything, though it isn't exactly a pleasant experience for them.

"..ke u..."

Because of this, Guardians rarely sleep. After all, time is limited and the hours spent sleeping could be used for better things, like more research, fighting the Darkness, or covering more ground. Sleep is a precious luxury, one that Guardians usually only indulge in when they're safe in the Tower between strikes or missions.

"Wa.. .p Gua..."

Unconsciousness induced from combat was an even greater rarity than normal sleep. Guardians heal extremely quickly, so any trauma that would normally knock them out generally only makes them dizzy. If something did knock the Guardian out, it would leave them to the mercy of the minions of Darkness, more often than not spelling either an assured death or worse.

"..ke up ...ian!"

Death itself couldn't be considered unconsciousness for Guardians, as thanatonauts could attest. Guardians maintained a level of consciousness when they died as their minds transferred to their Ghosts, so they could go from dead to fighting instantly. Always was a Guardian alert.

"..in!"

Yes, unconsciousness was a rarity to most Guardians, to the point where it was a strange and alien feeling.

"WAKE UP ODIN!"

So when Odin woke up from his warp induced unconsciousness, the Guardian jumped hard enough to slam his head on the ceiling of his ship with an immense CLANG! Odin fell forward, clutching his head and shouting out a string of curses in several languages.

His Ghost bobbed near his head, its single eye flickering between guilt, amusement, and concern. "Are..." it began tentatively, "are you alright?"

Odin gave off a particularly colorful curse in the Fallen language. "I would be..." he muttered angrily, "If someone didn't wake me up like that."

"You weren't responding," the Ghost protested. "I had to do something."

"Yeah yeah," Odin said, rubbing his sore head. "Next time just shoot a stream of plasma through my brain and revive me. Better than this..."

"Noted. Aside from your head, how are you?"

"Very confused. What..." Odin paused as the memories of the Vex ambush came back to him. "It was a trap."

"Looks that way. Those shots from their ships were never meant to actually hit and kill us. They were herding us to-"

"To send us someplace where we wouldn't interfere with them," Odin bit out harshly. He turned to his Ghost. "Where are we?"

"...I don't know."

Odin's brows creased together. "What do you _mean_ you don't know?"

"I mean I. Don't. Know. I can't pick up any Guardian channels or detect the Traveler's Light. There are a lot of unknown signals out there, but I didn't think eavesdropping on them would have been a smart idea while you were unconscious."

Odin stared at his Ghost for a few seconds before he sighed, letting his tension and frustration leave him with the breath. "Well," he grunted as he unbuckled himself from his chair, "let's see where we are in the water."

With practiced movements he pushed himself from his chair and up into the small area that was empty space in his ship. The lack of gravity didn't bother him in the least as he dragged himself through the vessel he had used for so many years.

The ship was something special, a relic stolen from the Vex. When Odin had first claimed it from the Vault of Glass, it had been inoperable. The inside was a solid thing of circuitry and Vex machinery. It had no life support, no physical readouts, not even a place to sit. The Tower Shipright and Odin had spent years scouring the thing of Vex programs and making it operable.

Even now the ship still had hallmarks of the Vex. The walls were marked with lines where the channels of mercurial mind-fluid once flowed. The inside hull seemed to both expand and contract randomly, reforming the interior to shapes that were alien and familiar at the same time. The inside was somehow larger than the outside. The outside hull was incredibly strong and heat resistant, being formed of some exotic Vex metal. Guardians and others who had rode within it reported strange feelings and hallucinations, lasting feelings of deja vu, and other even odder effects.

Yet despite all this, Odin had made the ship his home. It was his, and the interior showed that. The inside was divided into four main parts: The piloting seat in the very front, a digital armory, a storage area, and a small laboratory. There were minimal furnishings or decorations, with the exception of one small area on the wall. A series of pictures were displayed on it; some of a fireteam, some of people enjoying themselves together, some of enemies, some of friends.

Odin gave it a small smile as he passed, letting the fond memories wash over him. He basked in them for a bare moment before turning his attention back to the task at hand.

As he reached the rear of the craft, he tapped a small panel which flashed to life, displaying a series of readouts and data. He gazed at it and scowled. "This isn't good..."

His Ghost flew near him. "What isn't?"

"We're dead in the water right now," Odin explained. "That jump the Vex forced us on? Overloaded half our systems. We don't even have life support, let alone navigations, comms, weapons..."

"Oh... that's not good."

Odin snorted. "No kidding. If I hadn't got in the habit of stopping my breathing we'd be in an even worse spot right now." He gazed at the panel and tapped it a few times. It flickered, there was a hiss of sparks, and then it died. "Dammit!" Odin shouted, slamming a fist into the wall. He took a breath to steady himself, then gazed around. "Alright... we do this the hard way."

Closing his eyes, Odin reached out and gently touched a discolored patch on the wall. The gauntlets he wore seemed to ripple, responding to the odd shape, which in turn began to run up Odin's hand. His brow twitched, then settled.

There was the sudden sensation of falling, and when Odin opened his eyes, he was within his body no longer.

'His' eyes and ears had become cameras and sensors, 'his' mind the vast systems running within the vessel; 'his' fists were the missiles and guns, his feet the powerful engines and jets. 'His' Light had spread through the ship, becoming one with the machine.

Within half a second, 'he' had reviewed 'his' body. 'He' saw the damage that had been inflicted by the Vex. 'He' saw the pitted, charred scars burned into 'his' body by the Vex weapons. 'He' saw the systems that had overloaded and melted within 'his' body during the transit.

'He' was damaged, there was no doubt of that. 'He' was blinded. 'He' was unable to move. 'He' had no weapons that 'he' could fire. The Vex had tore into 'his' body and 'his' mind with their trap, and 'he' was suffering because of it.

But 'he' was not powerless. 'He' had ripped the treasures of the Vex from their grasp, 'he' had bitten into their fruit of knowledge and claimed power.

'His' Light flexed and 'he' accessed the mysterious skill of the Vex. 'He' delved into time, seeing what was, what is, and what could be. 'He' observed the damage that had been inflicted upon 'him.' A flicker of outrage crossed 'his' mind. How dare those abominations of metal do this to 'him.'

'He' would undo all their machinations.

'He' plunged his body into the timestream and 'his' body changed. The ruined, carbonized metal upon 'his' hull seemingly melted away. The fried and fused wires separated and realigned, slotting into power sources and intended locations. Systems that had crashed restored themselves, powering up as if they had never gone down.

In fact, it _was_ as if the entire Vex attack had never happened. With the stolen powers of the machines, 'he' looked at the timeline where 'his' body had been damaged and 'he' denied it, rewriting time to a line where that had never happened.

Within a few minutes, 'his' body had been restored to a complete state. With a final check of 'himself,' 'he' let a satisfied feeling echo through his mind before he pulled away from 'himself.' 'His' Light traveled through the hull and systems, flowing into the vessel of flesh and bone.

Odin inhaled sharply and pulled away from the wall. "Fuck," he said, breathlessly. "Fuck. I never get used... fuck."

"Hold still," his Ghost ordered in a sharp voice as it flew near his face. A beam of light spread out from its eye, covering Odin's head and making the Guardian wince. He stood still for a few seconds, waiting for his Ghost to finish its work.

Eventually, the beam disappeared and the Ghost bobbed up and down, imitating a nod. "You're clean," it said, "No contamination to your mind, body, or Light." It gave off a noise that sounded suspiciously like a tired sigh. "You got lucky. Again."

"Didn't have much of a choice," Odin said, floating towards the pilot seat. "We're far away from home and we _were_ dead in the water. We'd have been stuck here permanently, unless you were willing to contact one of those unknown signals."

"...Maybe that would have been a better option than opening your Light like that."

Odin turned and looked at the Ghost. "You don't mean that."

"I do. Open your senses. The Traveler's Light is non-existent, but..."

Odin narrowed his eyes, but did as his Ghost told him. He shut off his other senses, one by one, to increase the range and potency of the supernatural senses he had gained as a Warlock. The nearby system opened itself to him like a book, displaying its secrets. There was a planet... or a station nearby, teeming with life. Two strange... things that warped gravity. They felt like teeming masses of Void energy, and space-time folded around them, but he didn't think that was what his Ghost was talking about. What...

All at once, the realization hit him. "There's no Darkness..."

Indeed, the feeling of Darkness in his home was ever present. It was an oppressive sense of dread that all Guardians got used to. New Guardians often suffered terrors before they got used to the paralyzing feeling. Even the most hardened Guardians still occasionally got the feeling that their Light could be snuffed out at any time.

But here? It was nearly nonexistent. To a Warlock like Odin who had his extra senses extended at all times, it was as if a great weight had been lifted from him. Without anything to keep it down, the Light inside him blazed brightly and he felt his powers become strong.

"I don't think the Vex sent us forward or back in time," the Ghost spoke, "I think the Vex sent us to another dimension entirely. A place where the Darkness never existed or invaded, and if there's no Darkness for us to fight..."

"Then there's no purpose for a Guardian," Odin finished, his voice bitter. Ripped from his fight, ripped from his comrades and friends, ripped from his _purpose._

He had to give the damned Vex credit, they knew how to get rid of a threat.

"Our first priority should be finding a way to get home," his Ghost said. "If the Vex are really so prolific, there may be some structures of theirs in this galaxy or-" It suddenly paused, its eye flickering. "Hold on."

"What? What is it?"

"Hold- We're being hailed."

Odin's gaze shot to his Ghost. "Hailed? By people?"

The Ghost nodded. "Yeah. You're going to want to hear this."

Odin grunted. "To my comms."

The next second, a voice appeared in Odin's ear, surprisingly speaking in the native tongue of the City. "-repeat, this is Omega space control. Unidentified craft, you are in violation of Omega space. Respond immediately or your vessel will be boarded and impounded."

Odin frowned briefly. This was bringing up memories of his first foray into the Reef. Well, when in doubt, go back on what you know.

Which, in Odin's case, was lying out his ass.

He flicked on the comms. "Attention Omega space control, this is the Aspect of Glass. We have encountered unknown hostiles and suffered near critical damage. We are in need of immediate assistance."

There was a brief pause, as if the person on the other end wasn't expecting the ship to speak in City-common. "Uh... understood Aspect of Glass. One moment..." The comms clicked off and there was another pause followed before they clicked on again. "Aspect of Glass, I am uploading a data-packet to your ship. Follow this flight route to the bay at the coordinates listed, or you _will_ be fired upon."

"Understood Omega space control, we are en-route." Odin flicked off the comms and looked over at his Ghost. "Well... this is interesting."

"Interesting is one way of putting it," it said, "For all we know, this could be a trap."

"If it's a trap, we'll just do our usual way of dealing with them."

The Ghost whirled to glare at him. "Deliberately running into traps is _not_ dealing with them!"

"Hey, it's worked so far," Odin protested.

"No! No it hasn't! We just fell face first into that Vex trap!"

"Well, that was an exception," Odin said smugly.

The Ghost made a frustrated noise. "I'm going to monitor the systems," it ground out, floating away.

Odin smirked. He knew that his long time companion had a point, but teasing it never got old. He still remembered when it used to scream at him after he would charge into that Hive nest. Or that Fallen Ketch. Or that Cabal land-tank.

...Now that he thought about it, maybe he should look before he leapt more often.

He shook his head. His Light hadn't been devoured yet, so he must be doing _something_ right. Maybe he had some Guardian Angel watching over him.

He glanced back at the Ghost. Yeah. Guardian Angel. Right.

With a sigh he reached down between the seats and picked up his helmet. This would be a whole new experience, one that no Guardian had ever faced as far as he knew. As he stared into the obsidian blackness of the helmet's visor, he wondered. Would these creatures be like the minions of the Darkness from his home? Ravenous and thirsting for his Light? Would this galaxy be just another battleground?

Or would it be something entirely different?

He grinned and began to put on the helmet. Time to find out.

(0)(0)(0)

The first thing he noticed was how dirty it was. Filth, refuse, garbage, and things that that he didn't even want to guess the identity of littered the ground. He had no doubt that if he wasn't wearing his helmet, the stink would have been overpowering. He could tell that it was muggy and humid through the haptic sensors on his armor. Never was he so thankful for environment sealed robes...

The environment was only a secondary interest compared to the being in front of him though. It was humanoid, having the same body shape as humans, Awoken, and Exo. However... well...

It was green. Why was its skin green?

Was it an evolutionary trait? Did it gain nutrients from algae in its skin? Did its species evolve on a heavily forested world? It was a dark green. Was its home world a swampy planet? Was it amphibious?

And its eyes! Four of them in fact, like the Fallen. Were they scavengers like them as well? The row of needle-like teeth seemed to suggest that. The air was an oxygen/nitrogen mix and it wasn't wearing a mask like the Fallen did.

Underneath his helmet, Odin frowned. It was a mystery, and he didn't like mysteries. At least, not the ones he didn't know the answers to.

"I think I've got something," he heard his Ghost speak into his mind.

"Hit me," he subvocalized back.

"There's this net that I found. It's pretty extensive. ...Really expansive now that I look into it. Not as large as the Vex's one, but definitely bigger than ours."

"Think you can get into it without anyone finding out?"

"Already done," the Ghost reported smugly. "There were a few defenses for it, but they were rudimentary. Nothing even baseline AI level."

"Hooray!" Odin cheered silently, "For once you didn't take half an hour to break into a basic system!"

"Hey!"

Odin amusement was interrupted when the being in front of him pointed to him, then made a series of guttural noises that reminded him of the Fallen language. After a few seconds of speaking, the being turned and began to walk away.

"I think it wants us to follow," his Ghost said.

Odin hummed, thinking to himself. "Agreed," he said after a moment's deliberation. He began to walk after the being. "Think you can find some kind of translator on that net you were talking about earlier?" he asked.

"I think so," the Ghost replied, "let me check. It's called a Batarian, by the way."

Odin nodded within his helmet and began to walk after the... Batarian. It walked like a human at least. A bit more aggressively though, like a Fallen.

He frowned. This Batarian kept reminding him of his oldest enemies. What other similarities did they share? He didn't sense the Darkness on this one, but was it an exception? Like Variks was? Were they pirates as well? Scavengers without a home?

Walking through the airlock to the central chamber of the station, he glanced around. It reminded him much of the Vestian outpost, with its fusion of an asteroid and constructed materials. However, this place appeared to have been built into the asteroid, as opposed to the Vestian outpost, which was partially formed from a wrecked Ketch.

Regardless, the differences between this station and the outpost were as clear as day to Odin. He may not have resided on the outpost permanently, but he traveled to it frequently and was rather familiar with its inner workings.

The outpost always had a military feel to it, a sense of tension. Everyone knew their place and job, and they all moved to do it as efficiently as possible. Even the oddities like Variks and Brother Vance had their place in the outpost. That wasn't to say it was overly military; he still remembered Petra and her... enthusiasm while he was hunting the Wolves.

This place though... it was like chaos. The people traveling through the areas of the station were nothing like the Awoken soldiers, he could see that much. Half of them kept their head and gaze downward, avoiding eye contact. They clutched their valuables closer to their body, as though they would lose them forever if they dropped them.

On the other hand, there were the other kind of people. They weren't as common as the first type, but they were _much_ more noticeable. They walked with their heads held high... too high almost. Odin knew pride, and what they showed wasn't that. It was arrogance that showed on their body language. They walked as though they owned the station, as though everyone else was merely a side character in the epic that was their life.

Odin felt himself make a strange face. This place was so strange... Among the Tower and the City there was always a sense of solidarity... of unity among both the people and the Guardians. Sure, some of the ordinary civilians of the Tower felt uncomfortable with the undeath of the Guardians, but all of them faced a common foe, and they knew it. With the Fallen a constant threat, everyone worked together.

But here? It was like everyone was their own faction. Some people were clumped together, forming small groups, but Odin could see that they weren't actually _together._ Not in the same way he was used to. They were alliances of desperation. Or greed. Or whatever necessity or desire held them at that time. They were using each other.

Odin's lips curled upwards into a scowl. Disgusting. How could they possibly live in a... in a shithole like this? And he wasn't just talking about the environment, though it _was_ disgusting. The whole way the station was set up seemed to be intent on dividing people. The City was always so open, with wide streets for merchants to sell their wares to those passing by, and houses that were always welcoming to strangers. Sure, everything was designed around or for the Tower, but there was a reason for that. The Guardians were the best hope for the people, and everyone knew it.

His eyes strayed towards the center of the station. It seemed as though this place had their own version of the Tower... though that wasn't the best way of putting it. It existed in the middle of the vast empty space in the station, and everything seemed to point towards it. The entrance seemed to be built like a shrine or a temple, with a pyramid of steps leading towards it. The area above it drifted further upwards towards the ceiling of the station, creating the architectural illusion of superiority. It was almost as though it was a place of worship in this den of iniquity.

He supposed that's why it was named the way it was. Wasn't hard to figure out what it was called. The name burned above the entrance, both in City-common and what he was guessing was alien languages.

 **AFTERLIFE**

And it was exactly where he was being led. Of course.

How ironic. He, a Guardian who came back from the dead time and time again, headed into the place where the dead go to rest.

As he was led through the doors, his views on the place were only driven further. The way the ceiling leaned down created an oppressive atmosphere, like the walls and roof were pressing down on the occupants. The fire that danced on the screens only amplified this, adding the feeling of being roasted as well as crushed. Were these people meant to feel like herd animals in an oven? What kind of place was this?

As the second set of doors began to open, Odin braced himself. Would this be like the throne room in the Reef, with everything centered upon a singular monarch? Would it be like the Devil's Lair, with people bowing down in worship of a god? Or maybe it would surprise him, and be similar to the peaceful chambers of the Speaker.

Heh, yeah right.

The doors opened sharply, and Odin received his first look at the room beyond.

...

What the _fuck?_

A bar? It was a bar? Of all of the things? And not a classy, clean bar either! It was filled with strippers and drunk patrons and loud, blaring music! How had he not noticed that?! He had his helmet's audio filters on, and he could _still_ hear it!

He simply stood there in shock for a few moments, soaking it all in. It was nothing like he could have imagined, nor anything he had seen since... well, before he died for the first time.

The Batarian grunted, snapping Odin out of his wonder. Right. Time to focus. He still had something he had to do.

As the Batarian lead him through the bar, he took the chance to look around and absorb some of the sights. He saw several humans, some with odd hairstyles in a swept back style. Batarians seemed to be fairly common as well. There were some creatures that appeared to be of avian descent, and had a metallic looking exoskeleton. There were also a few patrons that looked amphibian in nature, with large eyes and two small horns on the top of their head. Briefly he wondered if they could breath underwater, and if so how they avoided drying out.

He suddenly did a double-take as he saw... was that a Cabal? No... it was slightly smaller, and had a more hunched over appearance. Or was that a... yes, that appeared to be a hump. Interesting, what purpose did it serve? Did it store fat? Was it protection for the brain?

"It's called a Krogan," he heard his Ghost say into his mind. "I'm looking up what they have on it. Seven feet tall, around four hundred pounds, and regenerate like crazy. They have tertiary and quaternary organs. Individually they're tougher than the Cabal, but they don't have anywhere near the same level of organization. They're also apparently all sterilized, or something close to it. They tried to conquer the galaxy a millennium and a half ago, and this... Genophage was unleashed to stop them."

A unique, but effective solution in Odin's eyes. Logistics win wars, and when the enemy can't reproduce it's only a matter of time before they run out of bodies to throw into the grinder.

The brief thought of reverse engineering this Genophage and unleashing it on the minions of Darkness appeared in his head before he dismissed it. The Fallen used masks in order to breath their ether and he doubted he could infect their ether supplies. The Cabal had pressure suits and their atmosphere supplies were even more well guarded.

The Vex... no. Just no. He wasn't going to try that. Not with their tech.

Though it might work on the Hive...

"Up there," he heard a rough voice say in front of him. To Odin's surprise, it was the Batarian. His Ghost must have downloaded the translator.

He looked up to where the Batarian was pointing. It was an elevated, private area in the back of the club. A thin barrier separated it from the rest of the area. He could see several guards up there, heavily armed and armored.

He knew what it was immediately. A throne. Perhaps not one laden in gold or silver. Perhaps not as authoritarian as a Kell's. Perhaps not as commanding as the Queen of the Reef's. Perhaps not as peaceful as the Speaker's (and it _was_ a throne, no matter how much the Speaker might protest), but it was one nonetheless. A perch for a monarch to gaze over their subjects, and for the subjects to gaze up in worship and awe.

And now Odin was being lead to it, like a wanderer to pay tribute to a ruler.

He smirked as he ascended the stairs. He wasn't much for authority. Once you've killed gods, you tended to stop seeing authority as all powerful.

As he reached the top, he looked around. Two strippers were dancing on poles on either side of him. He didn't pay them much mind. There was a large, comfortable looking couch at the edge of the area, with a...

Odin started. Was that an Awoken? What was it...?

His eyes narrowed. No... she looked like an Awoken, but her skin was a darker shade, more violet than the pale blue of an Awoken's skin. Her head had strange looking tentacles in a swept back pattern, and the markings on her skin were tattoos, not the circuit patterns that all Awoken had.

Odin took a step forward to get a better look, only to get the barrel of a strange looking gun in his face. "Hold still!" a Batarian growled.

Odin's eyes flared and he felt the urge to clench his hands into fists. How dare they! He was a Warlock of the Guardians! A protector of humanity and destroyer of the Darkness! He could flay them apart, atom by atom! He could scorch their bodies until not even ashes were left! He could draw his weapon and shoot each before any had time to blink!

But he didn't. Instead, he forced the anger down. This was not his universe. They did not know he was a Guardian.

A strange hologram covered the Batarian's arm, and Odin's outrage turned into his usual curiosity. What was that? A computer? It was pointing at him. Was it a scanner? A 3D image of Odin appeared above the device. Scanner it was.

He smirked. Good luck trying to get a reading on him.

An annoyed expression appeared on the Batarian's face, and he smacked a hand into the device. "Stupid thing-!"

"What is it?" the not-Awoken asked.

"I'm getting some strange readings. Really strange. The cloth he's wearing is giving off weird energy signals. I'm not detecting any eezo on him. His helmet shouldn't even exist and... and I think that thing on his arm is a miniature super-collider."

The not-Awoken made a humming noise. "How interesting..." She looked at Odin. "You appeared out of the Omega-4 relay, in a ship which no one's ever seen before, you come here wearing armor and gear which shouldn't exist, and you don't use eezo. You're a mystery." She scowled. "I don't like mysteries, so tell me who and what you are before I get Grizz here to throw you out the airlock."

Despite the threat, Odin couldn't help but smile. This not-Awoken reminded him of the Queen of the Reef in many ways. They looked similar, yes, but it was also the way they acted. The feminine authority they exuded. Rulers of their domains.

There were differences though, and Odin could see them as clear as day. The Queen of the Reef was always calm. She never raised her voice, never became angry, never showed any sign that she wasn't in control. She didn't need to, her grip on the Reef was like relic iron, and everyone knew it. Sure, the Wolves did rebel when Skolas came around, but she had that crushed within weeks.

This not-Awoken though... Her threat was a sign for Odin. It told him that her hold over this station was not nearly as secure as the Queen's was over the Reef. There were factions working against this person in front of him. He might be able to use that...

"My name is Odin, Miss..."

The not-Awoken narrowed her eyes. "Aria. T'loak."

"Well Miss T'loak, I'll be blunt. I'm not what you would call from around here."

"I can tell that much," Aria bit out. "Now tell me where."

Odin sighed internally. "Ever heard of the parallel reality theory?"

"You're joking."

"Completely serious. I encountered some... old acquaintances who I wasn't on the best of terms with. They insisted I leave."

Aria raised an eyebrow. "And you just went along with it?"

"They insisted most vigorously. Wasn't exactly my choice."

Aria was silent for a few seconds. "And what do you plan to do now?"

"As of now? I don't really have much in the way of plans. Finding a way to get home is at the top of my list though."

She narrowed her eyes. "And if I don't believe you?"

Odin shrugged. "To be perfectly honest, I don't care whether you believe me or not. Getting home is my top priority. You trusting me isn't necessary for that."

Aria watched him for a few seconds, staying silent. "Fine," she said eventually, "Omega is home to some of the worst scum in the galaxy, one more person won't make a difference. Just remember this. There's only one rule of Omega."

Her glare turned sharp, and she gazed down her nose at Odin. "Don't. Fuck. With. Aria."

Odin returned her gaze calmly. He had stared down some of the most fearsome minions of Darkness. This one alien didn't compare. "Fine," he said, "works for me."

"Good," Aria said, "Now get out of here."

Odin nodded and turned away. As he walked down the steps, he cast his gaze over Afterlife. He saw the strange aliens and familiar humans, the buyers and sellers, the bartenders and drinkers. He watched two creatures attack each other as people cheered, and someone get thrown out of the club by a beefy alien.

He saw it all, and as he did he asked himself two words.

"What now?"

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE** : Welcome to the first real chapter of Son of Light. I hope you enjoyed it. I'll be using this spot to post information and answer questions that you might have.

First up, Odin and the main campaign of Destiny. Bungie never gave us a definite timeline for the events, so I'm considering the awakening of Odin to be shortly after the Battle of Twilight Gap. Because of this, Odin is an old Guardian, and rather powerful because of it. You could say he's mastered the Sunsinger and Voidwalker trees, as well as being able to do some... other stuff. He does not have access to any Stormcaller abilities right now.

In addition, there isn't any rules for exotics with Odin. He doesn't have every single one, but he does have many, including every exotic weapon that comes from a bounty. Since there's really minimal information on exotic armor in the game, I'm considering those to exist, but not be abnormally special.

As you may have noticed, this story will be told from Odin's view. I might switch viewpoints occasionally, but for the most part you'll be seeing what Odin is thinking.

Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think, and I'll see you next chapter.


	3. The Wolf That Shall Keep It May Prosper

" _Warlock Odin? Yes, I am familiar with him. He wandered into the Tower a decade or so after I became the Vanguard. He is an... interesting soul. Different from the other Warlocks, myself included._

 _You are a Titan, so you do not understand. Allow me to explain. Our Warlock orders, despite being focused in research, are steeped in tradition. You are aware of the standard disciplines? What we call Sunsinger and Voidwalker? These disciplines come from the creation of our orders and have remained unchanged for centuries. To alter these talents is seen at best foolish, and at worst heresy. Osiris strayed from these paths, and you remember what happened to him, hmm?_

 _Odin is different than the rest of us in this regard. He routinely creates new techniques and talents. Oh, he has learned the skills we have created, but he has gone beyond that as well. His experiments go past most done by Warlocks. Why? The origins can be found within himself._

 _Odin has little talent as a Warlock. I can see the confusion in your eyes. After he slew Sepiks Prime and disrupted the Hive ritual that was draining the Light from the Traveler, it is hard to imagine him as anything but a prodigy. But it is true, he has little skill in the manipulation of Light. How then, you ask, has he succeeded? It is quite simple._

 _He simply doesn't give up. Where other Warlocks would consider a subject as a waste of time, he finds avenues of research. Where other Warlocks would see pointless endeavours, he finds the fruits of wisdom. He does not have much talent, but he has surpassed the talents of other Warlocks with sheer determination and hard work._

 _Well, that and an immense amount of luck._

 _So no, I will not endorse your petition to exile him. Do not pretend that was not what you were going to ask, I can see it in your eyes. Odin is valuable to the Tower, and if you wish to cast him out like Toland or Osiris, you must go through me."_

-Warlock Vanguard Ikora Rey on Warlock Odin.

(0)(0)(0)

Among the Milky Way galaxy, Omega station had a certain reputation. It was seen as the crime infested corner, where all dregs of society gathered at one point or another in their lives. Slavers, pirates, mercenaries, all of these and more filled the repurposed asteroid.

To the denizens of the galaxy, it made sense. The station was run by a pirate queen after all, and before that it was ruled by a Krogan warlord. During the coup where said warlord had been toppled, Aria had enlisted the help of not only her pirate crew, but various other factions as well, such as mercenary groups and Batarian slaver rings.

When she stood above the broken body of the previous ruler, she stayed her hand, but not from mercy. From some perspectives, it may have been more of a mercy to kill him. She had kept him, after all, as a trophy and an example of those who would cross her. To many, such a life would be worse than an honorable death.

Aria may have retired from her pirate ways, but that didn't mean she had gone soft. Omega was hers, and she had embraced the criminal ways and anarchy of the station. There were no rules on Omega, and anyone could do anything if they had the money, skill, or influence. Because of this, criminal elements thrived.

However, the reputation of the asteroid being filled purely with lawbreakers was false. There were honest people on Omega. Exiles, entrepreneurs, and people who were just looking for something.

The station was home to tens of thousands, and many of them were good people who were carving out a living for themselves or their families. There were clinics, restaurants, and hotels. There were nurseries where children were born, daycares where they were cared for, and schools where they were educated. Sure, the environment where they lived may have been a bit more dirty than what children on the Citadel had, and the streets where they played may have been a bit more dangerous, but they lived happy lives. For the most part.

Yes, Omega was different than the stereotype. Of course, that didn't mean the stereotype was completely false. After all, it was Omega, but the station wasn't entirely filled with illicit activities.

Just mostly filled.

It was the wonderful chaos of the station which allowed this, but there was one place where there was some order. Afterlife, the center of the station and closest thing that Omega had to a palace. It was a club among clubs, one where only the absolute best gained entrance.

Most people didn't dream of getting in. Those that did often waited days, or even weeks in advance. The rich and important could sometimes simply enter at will, though that could change with Aria's mood. Very rarely was someone given an indefinite, free pass.

You could find anyone within the walls of the club. An old mercenary who had survived when everyone else hadn't. An Ardat-Yakshi who had found her decided hunting ground. An ex-STG Salarian turned doctor. Krogan battlemasters, Batarian pirate captains, and Turian generals.

And perhaps most strangely, a certain interdimensional traveler.

Said traveler was, at the moment, sitting in a dark corner in the bottom of Afterlife. A mostly finished shot glass of hard liquor was on the table in front of him. It wasn't his first glass, nor his fifth. For three hours he had been sitting there, staring off into the distance and occasionally sipping at his drink, ordering a new glass when it was empty.

To the denizens of Lower Afterlife, he was someone to be avoided. His strange armor, scarred face, and hard stare gave the look of a hardened mercenary, one who wanted to be left alone and had the power to enforce that desire.

Human mercenaries might be newer on the galactic stage than the other races, but they had already established a reputation of ability and toughness. The human merc groups like Blue Sun had skilled enough soldiers, but individual ones? The mercenaries that carved out a living fighting by themselves for themselves?

Well, there was a reason Zaeed Masani was one of the most infamous mercenaries in the galaxy.

The cloaked figure in the corner of the room wasn't Masani, but he was alone, and more than that, he looked experienced. In a profession where the average life expectancy was measured in single years and the death percentage was in double digits, an experienced mercenary was a rarity, especially if they were human.

And so the figure was avoided by the patrons of Lower Afterlife. After all, they were here for a good time. If they wanted a bar brawl, they'd go for someone who they could beat, not someone who would break their spine and order another drink.

But the intentions of this figure weren't malicious, or suspicious. In fact, his actions and intent were quite benign.

Odin was learning.

It was a simple phrase which gave an overview of what he was doing, but didn't fully describe his actions. Warlocks didn't learn like Titans or Hunters (though if you asked most Warlocks, Hunters didn't learn at all). For the warrior-scholars of the Tower, learning was a process, one which let the Guardian further understand the very nature of the universe.

Odin was not of this galaxy, so he had to start at the beginning. And what better place to do that than the very source used by its inhabitants? He had connected his neural HUD to the extranet his Ghost had found earlier, and for the last few hours he had simply been reading.

Like most Warlocks, Odin had eidetic memory and used it to his fullest advantage, delving into each subject with enthusiastic fervor. History, xenobiology, sociology, military doctrine, economics, alien psychology, and most interesting to Odin, physics. Particularly intriguing was one branch of physics which was completely unique to this galaxy.

Element Zero. A completely alien element that could alter mass by running either a positive or negative charge through it, and used in every aspect of society in the Milky Way galaxy. From FTL travel, to weaponry, to even mundane technologies. With a bit of imagination and elbow grease, it could be used for practically any purpose.

Industries were built on it, wars were waged over it, and it served as the standard of the galaxy's currency. It would not be inaccurate to say that the societies of this galaxy absolutely depended on it, and without it they'd die a slow and painful death. It was as important to them as ether was to a Fallen Dreg.

And to Odin, it was mostly useless.

Sure, it was an interesting concept that helped this galaxy, but the humans of Earth, _his_ Earth, had developed without the need for the strange element, and there weren't many facets of his society which actually needed Eezo.

Glimmer filled most roles that this galaxy used Eezo for. The weapons of the Tower used it to create bullets directly inside the barrels of the guns. Ships consumed it for fuel. Artisans created great works from it. It filled every feature of City life, and in most ways surpassed the potential of Eezo.

Those which it didn't were filled by other methods. The transfer of matter to data, and the reversal thereof was a major discovery of the Golden Age of Humanity that humans of the City took for granted. Odin could fill the entirety of one of the floors of Afterlife simply with the number of weapons he had stored on his Ghost's databanks.

So no, Odin wasn't interested in Eezo as an element. It simply had too few uses in the City and the Tower, and the cost to implement it would be too high to be practical.

Biotics, however, interested Odin greatly.

He took a sip of his drink, and enjoyed the slow burn of it as it ran down his throat, only for the feeling to sour as he felt his Light neutralize the alcohol. Any poison that wasn't tainted with Darkness had temporary effects on a Guardian, alcohol included.

He refocused on what he was reading. Biotics were seen as a rare and coveted resource for the militaries and combat groups of this galaxy, and rightfully so. They could be used as a force multiplier, sending powerful blasts of energy which could shatter enemy lines. More than that, they could assist and enhance soldiers around them, creating barriers and altering ammo to be more effective. A single biotic soldier, properly trained, could be worth five normal soldiers.

Even if they weren't used in a combat role, they still had dozens of practicalities. The speed and ease of which biotics could alter mass made them much more practical for utility roles than using mass-manipulating machinery. By the Darkness, even something as simple as basic telekinesis had a number of potential applications.

As Odin continued to read about these powers, his mind worked furiously. The way that these biotics worked was fascinating for a multitude of reasons. Being able to affect gravity, mass, and even manipulate molecular bonds was no small feat. It was even more impressive when one considered that these abilities were under the control of a sapient being. And that led him to the next topic of interest.

The Asari.

Odin went to take a sip of his drink, only to notice that it was empty. He ordered another one from the scowling Batarian bartender, who poured some green liquid from a metal bottle. Odin took a sip and smiled as he felt the burn on his throat. The Batarian had stopped trying to poison him. A pity, he was looking forward to seeing what he would come up with this time.

Odin mentally turned back to the topic at hand. The oldest of the races in this galaxy, he had become intrigued by them as soon as he began reading. His specialty wasn't xenobiology, that was the chosen field of the other scholars of the Tower. He specialized in physics, but even so he was a Warlock and Warlocks were nothing if not intelligent. He saw patterns, and he followed those patterns to find three damning features in the Asari.

Firstly, their lifespans. Humanoid creatures that were the size and shape of humans and could naturally live over a millennia were incredibly rare. Guardians and other humans of the City could sometimes live that long - Odin himself was approaching his second millennia of life - but their lifespans were extended due to the power of Light and technology.

The Fallen, Cabal, and Hive were capable of living that long, but each had their own method of extending their lifespans. Fallen had ether, Cabal never stopped growing, and Hive had their unnatural dark magics.

The second feature was the Asari race's natural biotics. The fact that Thessia had so much element zero _and_ had produced a sapient species was an oddity. The simple chance of it happening was low, and not all too suspicious, but when combined with the other factors they made for a clearer picture.

The final, and perhaps most damning feature was their ability to mate with any species, native to Thessia or not.

It was simply too strange for a genetic adaption. There was no reason for it to evolve in a species. The Asari could only mate with sapient species, and they were the only example of that on Thessia. Even if the adaptation evolved in a small group of Asari, there was no reason for it to spread. It simply offered no benefit.

The Asari were a mono-gendered race, the _only_ mono-gendered race that evolved a backbone on Thessia. If they had evolved normally, there would have been genetic relatives on the tree of life. A distant cousin perhaps, other species which also shared the single gender, but there wasn't. There was only the Asari, composed entirely of fertile females, ready to make babies.

There were too many oddities, too many clues for Odin to not see the truth of the matter.

The Asari were a genetically modified species.

From what Odin could tell, they were designed as soldiers; probably by the Protheans, an ancient race he had seen referenced often. Their naturally biotic abilities offered great combat potential, which would be useful for living artillery or shock troops. Their ability to mate with any species would allow for extensive genetic variability,which could lead to different fighting styles and abilities. Additionally, it would widen the gene pool while also offering a wide selection of mates. Their long lives allowed the Asari to become very experienced in whatever they chose to devote themselves to.

From all this, Odin could see the obvious conclusion. There was almost no way the Asari could be a naturally occurring species. They were designed as soldiers to fight.

But against what? That was the million Glimmer question. Were the Asari meant to be uplifted as thralls to fight against the enemies of the Protheans? It was possible, but from what Odin had read of the Protheans, they were a peaceful and artful race, one that had spread across the galaxy with almost no other races to challenge them.

Perhaps an extra-galactic force? Something like the Darkness in Odin's galaxy, but the Darkness didn't exist here. As far as he could tell, there wasn't a great enemy to fight against. No Cabal war machine, no Vex tendrils, no Hive crusades. Nothing.

Or was there?

About two years ago the Geth had invaded the seat of the galactic government. Officially the main dreadnought had been a Geth ship, but it was obvious to Odin that it wasn't. Any fool could see it wasn't, the aesthetics and tech involved with it were simply too different. Could it have been a harbinger of an invasion force?

The ship had been destroyed by a human, something that made Odin proud of his species. What was the name of the individual? Shep-

"Hey! You!"

Odin was disturbed from his thoughts by a rough voice. He dismissed the neural HUD and looked up to see two Batarians standing in front of him, wearing the strange looking armor that was common in this galaxy. He took a moment to recognize the symbols on said armor.

The Blue Suns. One of the largest mercenary groups in this galaxy, and one that had a rather unsavory reputation. Slave trade, drug dealing, weapons smuggling, they had done it all.

Odin forced down the urge to scowl. He was intimately familiar with the way that their kind worked. He had spent a century hunting down and killing Fallen pirates. During that time he had seen what brutalities they inflicted on those humans that they had captured and enslaved. Once he had brought a new Guardian along with him during one of these raids . The young Titan had nightmares for a month afterwards.

To the Blue Suns in front of him, however, he simply raised an eyebrow.

Evidently this wasn't the best action, as the Batarian's scowl deepened. "My friend doesn't like your face, human," it growled.

"...Good for him," Odin moved his hand towards his drink.

The Blue Sun grabbed his wrist. " _I_ don't like your face."

Odin gave a tired sigh. "Good for you," he said in the tone of an exhausted parent with a troublemaking child who would just not shut up.

"I think you should leave, human," the Batarian snarled. "This isn't a place for your kind. Leave before you lose something precious."

"Hey, now," a new voice cut in. "Leave the poor guy to drink in peace."

Odin turned in surprise to see a Turian entering the conversation. He had only read a little on their species, and didn't recognize the markings on this one's face.

The Blue Sun merc, on the other hand, didn't seem to care. He stalked forward, sneering and moving his face close to the Turian's. "Back off bone head!"

The Turian laughed. "Bone head? Really? That's the best you could do? Come on, come up with a more creative insult."

Odin chuckled at the Turian's snark, and the Batarian whirled to face him. "What are you laughing at?" he growled.

"You," Odin said bluntly. "I mean, you come in here with this whole tough guy schtick and you just end up looking like a moron. Seriously, could you _get_ any more stereotypical? What's next, are you going to be demanding my lunch money?"

The Blue Sun snarled and swung at the Guardian.

Odin rocked back on his stool, dodging the blow by scant millimeters. He shifted forward, and used the momentum to stand and slam the base of his palm into the Batarian's face.

The alien cried out and fell backwards, blood pouring from its nose.

Odin began to shift into a stance, only for a weight to suddenly land on his back and two arms encircle his neck. He began to struggle, shifting to and fro to try and remove assailant.

Then hands began to claw at his face, moving towards his eyes, and Odin began to feel the beginning of panic bubble in his chest. He suppressed it with ruthless experience and began to gather Void energy in his body.

Before he could use it, the weight was lifted. Odin turned to see that the Turian had grabbed the Batarian and thrown it off. The Turian gave him what he thought was a grin, and he returned it with a nod, turning back to the first Batarian, who had just gotten up.

Odin couldn't help but grin. He hadn't gotten into a bar brawl in what seemed like centuries. He still remembered the old days when he and what seemed like half the Tower would fight through the night until Shaxx intervened.

He sighed. Those were the days.

The Batarian lunged forward and Odin dodged to the side, kicking out a leg and sending the alien crashing into some stools.

"Come on now!" Odin jeered. "You're not going to hit me if you act like that!"

The alien gave an incoherent cry of rage and rushed Odin again, swinging wildly.

Odin danced back, settling into a familiar stance that one of his Titan mentors had shown him. He dodged two swings, then struck out with a lightning quick jab, nailing the Batarian in the jaw before following up with a right cross.

The alien stumbled back and shook its head, but it had already lost the momentum and Odin wasn't one to pass up an opportunity. The Guardian advanced, sending a flurry of blows towards the Blue Suns soldier.

Jab, jab, cross, hook, uppercut. With each blow the Batarian was pressed further back, step by step, until it bumped against the bar and its retreat was halted.

Odin grinned and kicked it in the chest, sending it back over the counter. There was the sound of smashing bottles, and he winced. He would have to pay for that... In the meantime though, he turned to see how the Turian was holding up.

Then a bottle smashed into the back of his head.

Odin stumbled forward, not expecting the blow. He grit his teeth and snarled, whirling around to see who would dare attack him from behind.

It was the Batarian bartender. The one that had been trying to poison him.

How dare it! How dare this creature attack a Guardian from behind! How dare it attack a defender of the Light! Odin reached inside himself, touching his inner Light and calling it forth. He stepped forward and slammed his open hand into the bartender's chest.

There was the sound of an explosion. The air rippled and distorted in front of his hand, and the Batarian flew backwards, over the bar. It slammed into the far wall with a bone shattering CRACK!

Everything stopped. The music, the conversations, the movement. It was as if someone in the bar had pressed a pause button. Everyone turned to look at the Guardian, standing there with his hand out.

The Batarian slid down the wall and slumped on the ground.

Odin saw the Turian step next to him out of the corner of his eye. "We... might want to leave," the alien said.

The bouncers stepped forward.

"Now!" the Turian shouted, and began to run.

Odin bit off a Fallen curse and dashed after the Turian. It led him down into a passageway that he hadn't seen while sitting at the bar, and he made a mental note of it.

Around twisting corners and dirty streets Odin ran, following the Turian. Sights blurred by him as he ran. Strange humanoid aliens that hissed and snarled at him, corpses that lay next to people's trash, and... was that a noodle shop? Huh, he'd have to come back some time and check that out.

Eventually the Turian led him into a narrow alleyway. "They won't follow us here," it said, breathing heavily.

Odin nodded. "So..." he began, "I'm guessing what I did was a bad idea..."

"That's one way of putting it. Biotics are like pulling a gun. It's a good way of getting yourself killed."

Odin grunted. "Yeah, I can see." He glanced over at the Turian. "...Thanks. For the help."

"No problem," he said. He looked at him. "Don't think I got your name."

The Guardian extended a hand. "Odin."

The Turian shook it. "Garrus. Nice to meet you. Wish... it could have been under better circumstances."

"No kidding," Odin chuckled. "I guess I'll see you around."

Garrus nodded and began to walk off. "Yeah, see you."

Odin watched the Turian walk away. He spoke in his mind. 'You get the data off the data stick he grabbed off that Blue Suns?'

'Yep,' his Ghost replied. 'Can't believe you saw him do that.'

Odin chuckled. 'Well, I needed to get a lay of the land, so to speak...'

He felt the Ghost start within his mind. 'Wait... how much of that did you plan!?'

Odin smiled.

(0)(0)(0)

'This the place?'

'As far as I can tell. The instructions in the data stick were based on local terms, but I'm pretty sure I got it translated.'

'...How much is pretty sure?'

'72... 73 percent.'

'Of course...'

Odin stood in front of a closed, unremarkable door in an unmarked, unremarkable building in a boring, unremarkable section of the station. For all intensive purposes, it should have been a completely unremarkable building that stored unremarkable goods, like boxes or foodstuffs or washing machines.

It wasn't. The information on the data stick that Odin's Ghost had downloaded had been a location for a pickup. That in itself wouldn't have been anything of note for Odin.

The fact that it was for slaves was.

Odin... objected to that, and so he had decided to do something about it.

Now he stood in front of the location where the slaves were being held, a hand cannon in hand and a frown on his face, hidden beneath his helmet. He could sense the latent Light of living beings within it, not burning brightly like the Light of a Guardian, but shining nonetheless.

Some of the Lights were weak, as if the owners of them were starved or sick. They probably were.

Odin's eyebrows furrowed. 'How many enemies are in there?'

'About half a dozen,' his Ghost replied. 'Five of them. One's near the door, three are sitting down together, probably around a table. One's in the back.'

The Guardian smirked. 'Perfect,' he said, stepping forward to the door. Void Light shined around his hand, then solar fire joined it. They swirled together and around each other. Midnight violet and burning orange fused together, then separated into two layers, combined yet distinct.

He pressed the fusion onto the door, Void part first, then stepped back to watch the concoction do its work.

He had created this technique when he was planning the assault on the Kell of the House of Winter's Ketch. He had designed it as a breaching charge for the blast doors that the Fallen used, and it was meant for shock and awe. It had been... particularly effective. He'd never forget the look on the Kell's face when he entered.

Odin watched the Void portion of the ball sink into the door, spreading over the surface of it. It worked quickly, weakening the atomic bonds of the metal without harming the internal circuits of it. It worked slowly, but effectively. It wouldn't trip any alarms, but would turn the structural integrity of the door into that of old, rusted iron.

Soon the Void portion of the ball was exhausted, doing its job of degrading the door. Odin smiled and waited eagerly for the next part. He always loved watching this.

The solar fire collapsed like a small, focused sun. The outer layer of the ball collapsed inward into the concentrated center of the ball, only for it to suddenly burst outward. Channeled by Odin's Light, all the energy of the small fusion shot forward into the weakened door.

The barrier lasted less than a fraction of a second before it shattered with a fiery detonation.

To the slavers inside, it must have been terrifying. The door suddenly exploding inward, one of their comrades being caught in the fire and hurled through the air in pieces before a monster walks through the door, the flames licking at his clothing like a congregation reaching towards their god.

To the slavers' credit, they only hesitated for a few moments before the one in the back shouted an order. The ones around the table each grabbed a weapon. One flipped over the table, sending cards and credits scattering.

Odin gave them an annoyed look. He raised a hand and gestured to one of them. Void Light flickered angrily towards the slaver, entering its body. The energy tore into the slaver, ripping apart the atomic bonds holding it together. It screamed as it disintegrated into its base components, the powder and liquid remnants dropping to the floor.

Odin felt something impact on his body, as though he had been punched. He looked over to see that the two other slavers that had been around the table had drawn weapons and were firing at him. An SMG and a pistol. The rounds were impacting upon his robes, but were failing to penetrate the Light and hadronically charged cloth. The warlock scowled at his aggressors and raised his gun.

Centuries ago, Odin had departed from the Tower and explored Earth for years, seeking out Shin Malphur, the son and heir to the great hero Jaren Ward. The wandering Hunter usually kept to himself, avoiding Guardians and dealing out justice on the untamed frontier.

For a time, Malphur had avoided Odin as well. After all, most Guardians who sought out the Hunter either wanted to bring him back to the Tower or lay claim to his weapon, The Last Word. Malphur wasn't willing to go the Tower and was far less likely to give up his gun.

Odin wanted neither. The Warlock eventually found Malphur and, after a brief altercation, asked a request of him. Odin didn't want the Hunter's weapon.

He wanted his own. Odin made his request, laying out his reasons and offering opportunities and riches to the Hunter in return. For several days did he ask and beg, willing to throw his pride down in order to gain the Hunter's expertise.

Eventually, Malphur agreed. For years they explored, seeking out the hidden places in the inner solar system. They delved into the depths of the Hellmouth, captured lost Vex technology, assaulted Cabal fortresses, and even attacked a Fallen Ketch in order to gain the necessary parts. Even after all that they toiled for months, painstakingly forging the pieces together, combining it with infusions of Light.

The end result was a wonder. A beautiful hand cannon, with a gleaming silver barrel and intricate engravings that Odin had etched with Void Light. The magic that filled it had made a unique effect, altering the created rounds to go faster and hit harder. It was a thing of power. An incredible tool of the Light.

A true gunslinger's weapon.

Odin raised his gun, pointed at the head of one of the Batarians, pulled the trigger...

And the Hawkmoon screamed its reply.

The bullet shot out of the barrel like the fist of an angry god, and roared through the air faster than the eye could see. It impacted on the Batarian's face, straight in the upper right eye, and its head exploded like an overripe melon dropped from a tall building.

The slaver next to it gaped. Odin took that chance to shift his aim and deliver two quick shots to its center of mass. The bullets punched through the armor like it wasn't even there and exploded out the slaver's back, carrying with them most of its inner organs.

Odin began to shift again, only for something that felt like a baseball bat to impact on his chest. He staggered back, then looked up to see the final slaver had a shotgun in hand and was pointing it at him. "Why won't you die!" it roared.

Odin frowned. He wanted the slaver alive for information, but approaching it normally would put him at risk from that shotgun. He knew that his armor could absorb some shots, but he wasn't sure how many, and he didn't want to die so soon. It would be a pain to come back. That just left...

The Warlock tapped into his Light and filled his body with it. He reached out with his mind, mentally grabbed the location in front of the Batarian, then _yanked_ himself to it.

To the slaver, it would have looked as though the attacker had suddenly disappeared, only to reappear in front of him with a whoosh of air, moving faster than the eye could see.

Odin slapped away the shotgun with one hand and grabbed the slaver by the throat by the other, hefting it up and slamming it against a wall. "The slaves," he growled, his voice distorted by his helmet. "Where are they?"

"Fuck you," the Batarian spat.

Odin narrowed his eyes and slammed the slaver against the wall, harder this time. "Where. Are. They."

The slaver coughed. "Fuck... are you with Archangel?"

Odin narrowed his eyes. Archangel? He had heard references to him or it while he was drinking in Afterlife. He had dismissed it as unimportant at the time. Wasn't really important now either.

"If you don't tell me where the slaves are," Odin began, moving his face closer to the slaver's. "I remove your bones. One at a time, making sure you watch. You tell me? I might let you live."

The Batarian was silent for a few moments. "A hidden room," it finally gasped. "Behind a crate of arms."

"Thanks," Odin said, snapping the slaver's neck with a quick jerk. He tossed the body to the side and began to walk to the crate, when he stopped. He turned to the entrance and paused.

Several Lights were approaching the building. They burned brightly, not only more hotly than the slavers', but also more... purely. They reminded Odin of Guardians in a way, defenders of something.

A second later, several figures burst through the opening. They wore a variety of armors, and appeared to be a number of different races. Human, Turian, Salarian... even a Krogan. They were led by a single Turian in deep blue armor. They stopped and briefly stared as they saw the devastation inside the room. The fire, the bodies, the gore.

Then they saw Odin, right in the middle of it. They raised their weapons, but didn't fire, something he was very thankful for.

The Guardian just smiled and strapped Hawkmoon to the back of his waist. He looked at the lead Turian. "Garrus," he said, "Good to see you. Glad you finally got here."

The Turian's gun lowered slightly. "What?" he asked.

"The slaves are over there." Odin pointed to where he felt the weak Lights. "Behind a crate or hidden wall or something. Not sure, to be honest. I only got vague directions before this thing up and died." He nudged the slaver's corpse with a foot.

"What," Garrus repeated.

"I assume you're this Archangel I've heard of? Not a bad alias. You might want to get the slaves out quickly. Some of them are probably sick. All of them are weak."

That seemed to snap Garrus out of his stupor. He pointed to three members of the group with him. "You three, help those slaves. Administer any first aid necessary. You two," he pointed to a couple more members of the group. "Search the warehouse. Take anything that isn't bolted down. You." He pointed to Odin. "You're staying right here."

Odin raised his hands in a placating gesture, watching the people walk off. One of them gave him the stink eye. At least, Odin thought it was a stink eye. It was a bit hard to tell when they wore a helmet.

"Alright," Garrus said, interrupting Odin's observations. "Who the hell are you?"

Odin smirked underneath his helmet. "You don't remember me? I'm hurt."

"Cut the shit," Garrus growled. "Last time I saw you, you had gotten involved in a bar brawl. How did you get from there to fighting slavers?"

"Well," Odin began. "I was wondering just what was so important about that data stick you grabbed, and yes I noticed, so I made a copy of the data." He felt his face twist inside his helmet, as though he had just bit into something sour and underripe. "I don't like slavers, so I decided to do something about them."

Garrus was silent for a moment. "So you're telling me..." he began slowly, "That you went out of your way... and risked your life... to attack slavers... because you didn't like them?"

"...I _really_ don't like slavers."

Garrus shook his head. "Just who are you anyways? I ran a background check on you, and it came up with absolutely nothing. No family, no school records, no jobs, no biotic records, nothing."

Odin glanced around the room. "...That's a conversation that shouldn't be said in a place like this."

He could see the Turian tense. "Microphones?"

He nodded. "Or something similar."

Garrus thought for a moment. "Fine, you're coming with us. But you're going to give up that gun first."

Odin considered it for a moment. On one hand he was an excellent judge of character, and he was fairly certain that Garrus was honest. If he had planned on gunning Odin down, he would have done it the second he had entered the building. With Garrus and all his allies, Odin wouldn't have lasted long.

On the other hand though... Hawkmoon was special to him. It was _his,_ forged in fire and light. He had put his blood, sweat, tears, and Light into it, both literally and figuratively. Giving it up to someone felt... wrong almost.

He sighed. Sometimes it seemed like his life was filled with difficult choices.

"Fine," he eventually said, handing Hawkmoon to Garrus. "Just don't try to fire it. It'll take your hand off if you do."

Garrus nodded. "Hopefully it won't come to that."

"Hopefully," Odin agreed.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, and welcome to the third chapter of Son of Light. Here we see the first fights and the answering to some of your questions. Apologies with being vague in the previous chapters, I tend to be a fan of showing and not telling, so if you have questions they'll probably be answered in the story later. As for some of the previous questions, Odin is indeed a Human. I debated making him an Exo or Awoken, but decided they would cause too many issues.

Now for the next topic: The Aspect of Glass. Odin and the Aspect are linked, through both space and time. He chose the ship and the ship chose him. In the events to come it will be an important asset, one that Odin will use to the fullest.

As for the Hawkmoon, I've always been a fan of the weapon (despite playing Destiny on the X-Box...), and since there's so little lore about it, I decided to go ahead and have it be a creation of Odin. Certain exotics in this story will be more rare than others. Bounty exotics, for example, will be one of a kind. Exotics like Icebreaker, however, will have many versions. This doesn't mean that Odin will necessarily have multiple versions of an exotic, just that he might.

That's all. Hope you enjoyed the chapter. I'll catch you next time.


	4. The Wolf That Breaks It Must Die

" _You wish to help? Tell me, new Guardian, how could you help? Titans patrol our borders, yet every day they shrink more and more. Hunters patrol the wilderness, yet less and less do they return. Warlocks delve into the secrets of our Traveler, yet it continues to slowly die. So tell me, Odin: how could you possibly help?"_

" _...In every way I can."_

-First recorded conversation between the Speaker and Warlock Odin

(0)(0)(0)

Meditation has been used by humans for millennia. From the oldest wise man to the youngest disciple, it has been used as a tool to clear one's head and seek wisdom of the world.

It takes many forms. For some, meditation is achieved through simple walking, finding peace in the repetition and wonderful emptiness in the mindlessness of it. Whether it is taking a small trip to the local town center, finding peace in a short travel in the woods, or even hiking great mountains and valleys.

For others, meditation is found within exercise. The lifting of weights, the rhythm of a rowing machine, or even the simple stretches of yoga. This helps not only to clear the mind, but also improve the body. Indeed, both are linked, and one can't be altered without affecting the other.

Most see meditation as the act of sitting and clearing one's mind. This method can be achieved through many varieties, but a common practice is to focus on breathing, setting a pattern for the breaths and following through on that pattern. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Three seconds for each breath, one second holding the air in the lungs.

As Guardians were born from Light, they achieved their own forms. For Titans, battle was a common tool. Losing one's self in the storm of gunfire and death, embracing the chaos and letting one's self be consumed by it. It was due to this trait that Titans became so useful and skilled in battle. It was, after all, their home.

Hunters often achieved meditation by their usual means: traversing the wilds alone. They found peace in the isolation, and let that peace echo through their body and Light. They would find a sort of equilibrium out there in the wilderness, far away from the Tower and any signs of civilization.

The warrior-scholars of the Tower, however, required a deeper form of meditation in order to commune with their inner Light. To be a Warlock is to seek the truth behind one's powers. Neither battle nor isolation was an option for this, and so Warlocks turned to a deeper form of peace.

It was the very art of nothingness. To embrace the void and be embraced by it. A Warlock would sit motionless for hours without even a twitch, slow their breath until no air entered their lungs, and even still their heart until it didn't beat. They would cease all activity to enter a state that was not completely death nor life, but could be either.

It was through that method that a Warlock could tap into their inner Light. It was through this method that they could discover the secrets of the mystery which had reawoken them to fight in the war against The Darkness. And it was that method which Odin was trying to use in order to pass the time.

Keyword: trying. After all, it's somewhat difficult to become nothing when someone's giving you the evil eye of death.

Odin looked up, giving up on trying to meditate. The person in front of him was human at least, but he carried a high quality assault rifle in his arms. He sat on a couch, glaring at Odin and occasionally taking a sip from what appeared to be a coffee cup. He was wearing dark armor, with midnight blue highlights. Odin thought it looked tacky.

"You know," the Warlock said, "you don't need to watch me _all_ the time."

"I don't trust you," the other man replied.

Odin rolled his eyes and sighed. "So you told me five minutes ago. And five minutes before that. And the forty times before that. Can't you say anything different? Garrus has let me in here."

" _Archangel,_ " the man emphasized, "Let you stay here, without your gun and under watch."

"Really," Odin said, "Do you think I couldn't escape if I wanted to? I've gotten out of worse Fallen prisons."

"Right..." the man said. "Your crazy story about being from another universe."

"You don't believe me." It wasn't a question.

The man snorted. "Of course I don't. Who would believe crazy shite like that?"

Odin raised an eyebrow. "You saw what I did to those slavers."

The man shifted, giving Odin the stink-eye. "Nothing you did in there couldn't be achieved by biotics, tech, and some nice gunwork. Your gun's weird, I'll give you that, but that's not much. So long as you're staying here, I'll be watching you."

"Not much of a place anyways," Odin muttered. He looked around the building, soaking in the sights and architecture. The building was larger than what Odin was used to. Guardians usually stayed in barracks, though Warlocks tended to have additional rooms for labs. Citizens in the City had apartments, but they were typically compact, with families staying in small areas.

Compared to those, this place was practically luxurious. Two stories with plenty of rooms, as well as a basement for storing supplies. From what Odin had seen, Garrus' group (he refused to call the Turian by that silly name) had about a dozen members. The upstairs had been converted into a barracks of sorts. Weaponry and ammo was scattered all over the building. It was fairly defensible. Odin wasn't sure about the wide open windows and entrance, but the bridge was a good choke point.

He sighed again as he looked back to the person in front of him. The man had the mindset of a Titan and was stubborn as the Cabal. He was focused for battle and was slow to change. He was also loyal to Garrus to a fault, much to Odin's annoyance.

"Want to hear a story?" Odin said to the man.

The man raised an eyebrow. "A story from your 'galaxy', I'm guessing?"

Odin nodded.

The man snorted. "Sure, why not? Bored anyways."

Odin took a moment to take a breath and organize it in his mind. "Once," he began, "There was a Titan. She was born like other Guardians, born again in the Light of the Traveler. She was full of youth and vigor, and traveled to the Tower. She trained under the Vanguards, was equipped with arms and a ship, and gained the Speaker's blessing.

But she could not stay at the Tower. She itched to travel, to go out and fight the Darkness. To bring the fight to them. The Vanguards urged her to wait. The Speaker advised her patience. But she did not listen. She took her ship and left into the unknown.

She went out to Earth first, traveling to the old Cosmodrome. She explored it, gathering spinmetal and investigating the ancient ruins of civilization, when she came across a Fallen. She asked it, 'What are you?'

The Fallen answered her. 'I am the scavenger and the pirate and the slaver. I am that which preys upon your ancestors. I assaulted your city and spilled your blood. I am the Dreg and the Vandal and the Captain. I am the Kell and the Archon and the Prime Servitor.'

And so they fought. The Fallen attacked with arcbolt and shockblade and shrapnel launcher. But the Titan was strong and had her guns. She caved in the Fallen's head and left it dead in the soil. But she was not yet satisfied and departed again.

She went to the moon, to the remains of the lunar bases. She explored it, gathering helium coils and delving into the ancient explorers, when she came across a Hive. She asked it, 'What are you?'

The Hive answered her. 'I am the consuming swarm which rages against the Light. I am that which devours all and leaves the universe cold and empty. I am the army which broke your lines and spread this moon with the corpses of your kind. I am the Thrall and the Acolyte and the Knight. I am the Wizard and the Ogre. I am Crota and Eir and Ur and Xol and Yul and Oryx.'

And so they fought. The Hive attacked her with shredder and boomer and cleaver. But the Titan was good and had her fists. She broke the Hive over her knee and left it dead in the dust. But she was not yet satisfied and departed again.

She went to Venus, to the Ishtar campus. She explored it, gathering spirit bloom and delving into the scholars of the Golden age, when she came across a Vex. She asked it, 'What are you?'

The Vex answered her. 'I am the single mind and the many bodies. I am that which tears time and space asunder and consumes the remains. I imprisoned your predecessors and ancients and bent them to my whim. I am the Goblin and the Minotaur and the Hobgoblin. I am the Cyclops and the Hydra and the Harpy.'

And so they fought. The Vex attacked her with slap rifle and line rifle and torch hammer. But the Titan was great and had her Light. She crushed the Vex under her boot and left it dead in the mud. But she was not yet satisfied and departed again.

She went to Mars, to the ruins of Clovis Bray. She explored it, gathering relic iron and searching for the secrets of Humanity, when she came across a Cabal. She asked it, 'What are you?'

The Cabal answered her. 'I am the legion of iron. I am the juggernaut which grinds worlds into my machine of war. I have conquered this land and seized it for my own. I am that which crushes all beneath the treads of my tank. I am the Legionary and the Centurion and the Phalanx. I am the Colossus and the Psion. I am the Bracus and the Primus and the Valus.'

And so they fought. The Cabal attacked her with slug rifle and projection rifle and heavy slug thrower. But the Titan was mighty and had her skills. She tore its head from its body and left it dead in the sand. But she was not yet satisfied, so she departed again.

This time she traveled far, beyond the asteroid belt, beyond the Light of the Traveler. She went far and far, until she could no longer pick up the Guardian signals that called her home. And there she found the Darkness. She asked it, 'What are you?'

But the Darkness only smiled.

And so they fought." Odin briefly fell silent, taking a breath and organizing his thoughts.

The man leaned forward impatiently. "So what happened? She won right?"

Odin looked at the man, his eyes sober. His gaze fell downward. "No," he said. "She died. The Darkness consumed her, devoured her body, mind, and very Light."

"Jesus," the man said, running a hand through his hair. "That's one fucking story. You use that to scare kids?"

"New Guardians," Odin corrected. "It's used as a cautionary tale to teach lessons. Now I'm using it for you."

The man's eyebrows furrowed. He leaned back slightly. "What do you mean?"

Odin rolled his eyes. The mentality of a Titan. "Let me ask you a question," he said. "Why do you fight?"

"Huh?"

"Why do you fight?" Odin repeated. "Why do you follow Garrus into battle?"

The man didn't hesitate. "It's to help this fucking station. It's filled with corruption. We fight to put some good into it, to help the common person."

Odin nodded. "I see. Who do you fight?"

The man sent an irritated glare at Odin. "The mercenary and criminal groups in the station."

Odin nodded again. "And when you've finally killed all these mercenaries and criminals, then Omega will be rid of evil? Be filled with justice and light and goodness?"

The man stopped, blinking and sitting back a bit. "...What?"

"Your group's plan," Odin continued, "When you've killed and killed and killed, will your work finally be done? Will the people be able to walk on the streets without fear and keep their doors unlocked?"

"W-well," the man began.

Odin interrupted him. "Or will others fill the vacuum that you will have created? More mercenary groups and more criminals and more slavers? Or perhaps you will fill the void? Become tyrants of justice and dictate how others will live so that they will commit no crimes at all. Will you become that which you fight?"

The man curled his lip back and snarled slightly, leaning forward. "Why-!"

Odin stood. "You asked for the meaning of the story? If you fight the minions of Darkness and evil, then you can win. But if you fight the Darkness itself? You will be destroyed by it at best, and corrupted by it at worst."

Odin opened his mouth to continue when he suddenly stopped. Something was touching on the edge of his senses, a small warmth pressing on his mind. He turned his head and focused.

Lights were approaching the building. Several dozen of them. He could feel the teeming emotions contained within them. Hatred. Nervousness. Fear. They were advancing slowly towards the building, and it was obvious to Odin that they weren't friendly.

Odin looked up to the ledge and jumped, loosening the hold of gravity on his body and gliding up to the second floor. The man below made a protesting noise, but Odin ignored him. He walked quickly to the ledge and looked out.

He could sense the beings. They were supposed to be coming to the opening of the bridge now, but Odin couldn't see them. Were they cloaked? Odin looked closer...

There. He could see the faint shimmer of light. Focusing closer, he could see that it was in the shape of an alien. Perfect.

"The hell are you doing?!" the man exclaimed, running next to Odin.

Odin didn't look at him. "Is anyone supposed to be coming here?"

"Huh?"

"Is anyone supposed to be coming here?" Odin repeated with heavier emphasis.

The man thought for a moment. "...No, Archangel left an hour ago, but he isn't due to be back yet. Why?"

Odin held a hand out to the side and focused void energy in it. "Wake everyone up."

The man stepped back from Odin and furrowed his eyebrows. "...Why?"

Odin focused on the energy in his hand. It was a chaotic, swirling mass of dark energy, decaying particles, and collapsing matter. He narrowed his eyes, concentrating the mass further, down into a single point.

After a second, it was ready. Odin cocked his arm back and hurled it.

It sailed through the air slowly, belying its dangerous nature. Like a heavy balloon, the dark violet ball glided out onto the bridge.

Then it impacted.

There was a cacophonous explosion. The ball burst, shaking the bridge and building with its impact. A great, swirling sphere of void energy shot outward, filling the width of the bridge.

Screams filled the air of the area as the front line of the cloaked invaders blew apart. Literally. Body parts and blood flew through the air, and the shock wave broke the cloaks of those that were spared instant death. Odin could see that they weren't a single mercenary group, though there were numerous Blue Suns and Eclipse.

Odin held out a hand. There was a shimmer of light, and a gun materialized into it. It was a pulse rifle, one that Odin had found and assembled over the course of decades. The bones of a young Ahamkara were built into it, and malevolent green energy filtered up from the barrel.

"Ghost," Odin said.

Above his shoulder, the fragment of the Traveler appeared. "Here."

"Jam their comms," the Warlock said. "I want false signals, true signals, and static filling their channel. Send them into chaos."

There was a second pause. "Done," the Ghost said.

Odin turned to the man, who had been staring with his jaw practically on the floor. "You're under attack," the Warlock said.

"Jesus," the man wheezed, "Mother of Christ. You weren't lying. Holy shit."

Odin stepped forward. He gently slapped the man's cheek, shocking him out of his stupor. "Focus," he said. "You're under attack. You need to get your teammates and get them armed."

The man blinked. "Y-yeah. Yeah, right." He turned away and began to head down the hall when he stopped and looked back at Odin. "What about you?"

Odin aimed his gun down the bridge. "I'm going to do some cleaning," he said, sighting an alien in his reticle. He pulled the trigger and the gun barked, sending three shots downrange.

The bullets sped down into the bridge and impacted in a Turian, penetrating its armor easily. The Turian spasmed and collapsed, dead on the ground.

Odin smirked as he felt the gun in his hands hungrily devour the alien's Light. The bullet counter on his HUD jumped back up to 24, and the gun touched his mind. It had eaten, but the Turian's Light was only a bite. Barely a snack. It wanted more. More Light. More battle. More bloodshed.

Odin was more than willing to oblige it. He shifted his aim and began sending more and more bursts down range, killing more and more aliens.

He sighted what appeared to be a Batarian and fired a burst at it. He stopped when there was a shimmer and his weapon's magazine remained at 21. There was a flicker of irritation on his mind, and it wasn't just the gun. His eyebrows furrowed. Was this a kinetic barrier that he had heard about?

There was another shimmer, and the Batarian staggered to its feet. It began to shout, attempting to rally the nearby mercenaries.

Odin couldn't have that now. He fired a burst at it, and it stumbled back as the bullets impacted on its shield. He fired another burst. The first bullet impacted on the shield. The second bullet broke it. The third bullet landed right between all four of its eyes, and as it fell back, Odin's pulse rifle refilled. He gave a nod, the new information recorded in his mind.

Movement down the bridge caught his eye. It was a Salarian who was charging into the vortex that Odin's Nova bomb created. Odin smirked. This should be good.

The Salarian took one step into the vortex. Odin could see that its armor was beginning to decay, the teeming mass of particles and energy eating away at it.

By the second step, most of its armor was gone. It began to scream in pain as its body wore away.

On the third step its voice disappeared and it fell, slowly dying. Odin grinned as he felt the Light leave its body. That never got old...

He shifted to another target. A small, tuneless hum bubbled up from his throat as he fired down on the aliens.

He had always loved the song. He couldn't sing worth a damn, something that Cayde-6 never let him forget, but he loved hearing other people do so. Most of his adventures into the City had been to places where people sang, from operas to run down karaoke joints.

The song he remembered now was a favorite of one of his mentors. She had been a Titan, strong as steel and just as unwavering. More than once she had trained him to the point of death... literally. She had been an unforgiving taskmistress.

But she had her depths as well. Once, during a moonlit night when Odin and her were watching the Traveler and the City beneath it, she had confessed that she had been a singer before she had died for the first time. Odin had taken this confession with wide eyes and teased her about it.

In return, she punched him off the Tower.

When his Ghost had revived him (much to its exasperation), Odin had apologized and asked for a song.

She, after much convincing (and some shameless begging) had relented and sung. It wasn't a long song, only a few minutes long. There hadn't been instruments, or backup singers, or surround sound. No stage, no audience, no theatrics.

Yet, it was one of Odin's most cherished memories. He had watched his mentor give her performance quietly, his eyes wide and eager. When she had finished, he clapped, earnestly and for a long time. He had never heard anything like it before.

Odin smiled as he remembered the memory. He wondered what Amaris would say if she could see him now...

Probably to stop spending so much time reminiscing and start fighting harder.

Odin smirked at the thought. He shifted his aim only for his eyebrows to raise slightly. The bridge was clear of hostiles. Well, living hostiles. There was plenty of corpses, blood, and... bits scattered around it. He focused his senses, and confirmed that there wasn't any Lights in the vicinity.

Excluding those of Garrus' team, who were at the moment headed up the stairs. Odin turned to look at them. He smirked slightly. About time they got here.

"Where are the hostiles?" the man Odin had been talking to asked.

Odin pointed at the Bridge.

Their reactions were comical, to the point where Odin almost burst out laughing. Most of them gaped at the devastation the Guardian had caused. One of them muttered what sounded like a swear. The Krogan looked at Odin and made what appeared to be a grin. "Not bad human," he grunted.

There was a pause. "So..." the man said, "What now?"

Odin glanced over his shoulder at his long time companion. "Ghost?"

The shard of the Traveler narrowed its eye. "They're reeling right now. They were expecting that attack to catch you all unaware and wipe you out. Now that it's failed, they're unsure of what to do, but it sounds like they're going to try a massed attack." It paused. "And I just contacted your leader. He's headed back as quickly as he can."

There was a brief silence from the group. "Is that..." the female Turian said, "Is that an AI?"

It glared at her. "I'm a Ghost, actually."

"But is it an _AI_?" she insisted.

"It's a Ghost," Odin said, repeating his companion's statement. "And right now it's what's keeping you alive, so I'd suggest that you focus more on repelling the oncoming assault."

That seemed to strike a chord through the group. "Right!" the man shouted. "Let's get to work!"

Odin tuned out as the man began to bark orders. He holstered Bad Juju on his back and held out his hand. There was a shimmer of light, and a weapon fell into it, drawn from his Ghost's databanks.

It was an old companion, one that had seen him through thick and thin. He had originally gained it from Master Rahool, a surprising gift after Odin had found an incredibly rare engram.

When Odin had killed Phogoth the Untamed, it had been this weapon that had delivered the killing blow. When his ship had been shot down, before he had claimed the Aspect, it was this weapon that had ensured his survival until he could find his way back to civilization.

Odin lifted his Ice Breaker and aimed down the scope. Any mercenary that walked around the corner was going to get an unpleasant surprise.

(0)(0)(0)

The next time Odin saw Garrus, he almost shot him in the head.

To be fair, he had been sitting in the same spot, focusing through the scope of his sniper rifle for a good hour and was getting rather bored. In addition, he was expecting the next being he saw through the scope to be a mercenary, and Garrus' bright blue armor did make him look somewhat like a Blue Suns.

So when Garrus rounded the corner, Odin damn near squeezed the trigger. Luckily, he managed to halt himself in time, stiffening his finger to prevent the gun from firing. He blew out a breath and lowered the Ice Breaker. That had been too close.

He stood and waved at the Turian. Garrus' head moved up to see Odin, and he waved back. Odin smiled and stood, beginning to walk downstairs to where Garrus' team was.

To be perfectly plain, Odin liked Garrus. The Turian was friendly but tough, and had a demeanour that Odin enjoyed. Garrus had the makings of a smarter Hunter (a statement that most Warlocks would argue was an oxymoron), and Odin enjoyed his company.

As Odin walked down the stairs, he saw that Garrus was talking with his team. "Everyone alright?" the Turian asked. "Any casualties?"

"Not one," the man (Odin made a mental note to continue to not remember his name) said. "Thanks to... well..." He glanced at Odin. "Him."

Odin smiled, walking to Garrus and holding his sniper rifle in a relaxed pose. "Garrus."

The Turian nodded at him. "Odin." He paused, shifting slightly. "Thanks. For saving my team."

Odin nodded. "No problem. We'll just call it even for the bar fight."

Garrus returned the nod. "Deal." He turned back to his team. "Our position has been compromised. We should assume that our identities have as well. So I'm initiating Blackfall."

There was a murmur from the team, but Garrus raised his hand. "You all know this was a possibility, so stop whining. We'll see each other again." He paused, then chuckled. "Assuming we get out of here alive that is. I'm looking at you, Butler."

"Oy!" the man shouted as the group laughed. So that was his name. Odin promptly forgot it.

Garrus took a few moments to let his team laugh before he spoke again. "But first we need to get out of here," he said. "Mercenaries are massing outside the front entrance, so that's a no-go. Any ideas?"

"Sky car?" asked the female Turian.

Garrus shook his head. "Unlikely. We'll be shot down before we can make it down the block."

"Why not just kill them all?" the Krogan grumbled.

"I saw how many mercenaries were lining up for our heads," Garrus said. "We'd take too many casualties. I'm not willing to risk it."

"Dammit!" the man whose name Odin didn't remember swore. "If only we had a gunship or troop transport..."

Odin stepped forward. "I may be able to help with that," he interrupted.

The group all looked at him. "...How?" Garrus asked, after a moment.

"My ship is docked with Omega," Odin explained. "It's small enough to get in here, large enough to carry three, maybe four of you at a time, and is tough enough to take a few hits."

"And you'll be willing to help, just like that?" the female Turian asked.

Odin shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I hate you all, and I've already saved your collective asses. Besides, do you really have a choice?"

The group looked at each other, collectively considering Odin's offer. Garrus sighed. "No, I guess we don't. When can you get it here?"

Odin smirked. He raised a hand and snapped his fingers.

Outside the building there was a shimmer of light. In the air, a shape appeared, hovering silently. It was large, several times larger than a fighter. It sported an impressive array of weapons scattered over it, and its hull sparkled a coppery-silver in the Omega light.

Garrus' team gapped at the sudden appearance of the ship. "Holy hell," one of them muttered. "That was fast."

Odin grinned. "I had my Ghost fly it over when the mercenaries attacked." He looked at Garrus. "Which three will be the first to go?"

Garrus considered it for a moment before he pointed to three members of the team. "Ripper. Vortash. Erash. You're evacing first."

One of them grumbled, but they all nodded. "So," one of them said, looking at the Aspect. "Is there a ladder or-"

His question was cut short as their bodies shimmered and disappeared. Garrus flinched. "What-"

"It's fine," Odin interrupted before the Turian could panic. "They've been teleported onto the ship. Upload the coordinates to my Ghost of where they should be dropped off."

Garrus blinked. "Right," he said, opening his omni-tool. He tapped a few keys, glanced at Odin's Ghost, then tapped a few more. "Done."

Odin looked at his Ghost, who nodded. There was a pulse of engines from the Aspect, and it flew off into the distance.

Garrus watched it leave. "How long will it take for a round trip?"

"Fifteen minutes," the Ghost supplied. "Assuming nothing tries to get in its way."

Garrus narrowed his eyes. "That means an hour before we can get you all out of here," he said to his team. "If we're lucky, they'll be taking more time before they assault us, and we can spend time to prepare-"

"They're not," Odin interrupted. He began to walk to the stairs. "I'm sensing the Lights of many beings assembling on the other end of the bridge."

Garrus cursed. "How many?"

"Hundreds," Odin said, nearing the top of the stairs. He turned the corner and raised his Ice Breaker. "And who knows what else they're bringing with them."

"Right!" Garrus shouted. He looked at his team. "For almost two years we've harassed the scum of this station! We've crippled their operations, assassinated their leaders, and been an overall pain in the ass for them!"

There was some laughter among the group. Garrus let it settle down before he spoke again. "We've been a bright light in Omega. We've helped those who couldn't help themselves, and although this station may not be perfect, we've made it better."

He sighed and looked among the group. "But now they've found us, and they're not here for drinks and snacks. We have to hold them off until we all can be evacuated. We've got about an hour until we can all leave, so I'm giving you all an order."

Garrus looked among his team. He grinned. "First to die buys the drinks!"

A cheer went up among them. "Now get to your positions you bastards!" Garrus shouted.

As the group went to defensive positions, Garrus turned and walked up to Odin. "Think we have a chance?" he asked.

Odin pursed his lips together. "If you were alone, you'd definitely take some casualties..."

Garrus looked at him. "But?"

Odin grinned. "But I'm here, so you'll all get out alive."

Garrus shook his head. "You sound cocky."

"Not cockyness," Odin corrected, "Confidence. I've been in worse positions than this and come out on top."

Garrus grunted. "I find that hard to believe."

Odin opened his mouth to respond, only to stop as something caught his eye through the scope. "We have incoming," he said, shifting his aim.

They were gaunt creatures, with their skin tight around their bones. They had odd looking crests, and their teeth... or rather, their fangs, were exposed. It seemed they lacked lips. In a way, they reminded him of Fallen Dregs or Hive Thralls. What were they called again?

Ah yes. Vorcha. Well, it didn't really matter.

Odin breathed out, stilled his heart, and squeezed the trigger.

Within the Ice Breaker, a small glimmer forge activated, converting a small amount of the material into a drop of ferrofluid. The fluid was elevated within the chamber for a fraction of a second, before the magnetic rails along the barrel of the sniper rifle activated. The ferrofluid was then caught by the magnetic field and accelerated to near relativistic speeds.

The drop screamed through the air, extending into a needle like shape and superheated by the friction of the air. In less than half a microsecond the liquid reached the Vorcha's head, piercing it like a hot chainsaw through butter. For all intents and purposes, it was like the Vorcha wasn't even there.

Powered by Golden Age tech, the superheated round transmitted its incredible heat directly into the Vorcha's body, flash boiling all the liquid within its body. The rapid expansion caused the creature's body to literally explode, sending high temperature steam and flaming body parts into its nearby companions.

Odin smirked as the screams of the aliens filled his ears. He shifted his aim, sighting the next Vorcha.

"Your guns make enemies _explode_?" he heard Garrus exclaim.

Odin didn't look out from the scope. "Yours don't?"

"...No."

He shrugged and pulled the trigger, killing the alien. "Pity."

Odin narrowed his eyes as more and more waves of Vorcha spilled from the entrance of the bridge. It wasn't as though they weren't easy to kill. After all, their bodies were thin and wiry, and Odin was using a sniper rifle that was made from Golden Age technology.

But they just kept coming. Ice Breaker's glimmer forge was highly efficient, but its cooling systems were limited. If Odin pushed it too far, he risked it blowing up in his face, and he _really_ like this gun.

It was like the tactics of the Hive. Drown the enemies in cannon fodder, exhaust their ammo and energy, and then send in the stronger units to clean up.

"So we had the same idea," his Ghost said, appearing just above his shoulder.

Garrus flinched at the sudden appearance of Odin's companion. "What do you mean we had the same idea?" he asked.

The Ghost gave him an annoyed look. "I was talking to Odin, not you."

Garrus blinked. "Oh." There was a pause. "So, what was the idea?"

"I'm familiar with these tactics," Odin explained. "How are your soldier's ammo supplies?"

"We knew what we were doing with this place," Garrus said, a hint of pride in his voice. "It's pretty much a fortress. We've stocked the place up to the crest with ammo."

Odin paused at the odd metaphor before shrugging it off. "I hope it's enough," he said, shooting another alien. "They're probably not going to stop assaulting this place for a while."

Garrus thought for a moment. "Assuming we can't escape, we could probably hold out for a week. A week and a half if we conserve ammo."

Odin nodded. "That'll do." He paused as his Ghost relayed information to him. "Get the next batch ready for extraction. My ship's incoming."

The other side of the bridge blossomed in fire, utterly engulfing the assaulting mercenaries. The next second, the Aspect of Glass roared overhead, slowing to a stop near the building.

"Next group!" Garrus shouted. "Mieren! Krul! Monteague! Let's go!"

Three of the fighters pulled away, rushing to the entrance of the building, covered by the brief reprieve granted by the ship. As soon as they got outside, their bodies shimmered and disappeared.

Odin felt a confirmation from his Ghost that they were aboard, then gave the mental command to the ship. It lifted off and pulled away, escaping before the mercenaries could attack it.

Odin narrowed his eyes as the fire on the other side of the bridge faded. He couldn't sense any more Lights heading for the bridge, but there's no way that the mercenaries would give up that easily? Were they about to send in the heavy hitters? More cannon fodder to soften them all up? What were they planning...

"Archangel," said the female turian, climbing up the stairs. "Looks like they broke off the assault."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Odin said, peering through his rifle. "From what I've heard, these guys have a major hate-on for all of you. I don't think they'd give up _that_ easily."

She glared at him. "How do you know?"

Odin rolled his eyes. "This isn't the first siege I've been through," he said. "Believe me, when someone or something wants you dead this much, they won't stop until you're in the ground."

"Alright, that's enough," Garrus said roughly. "Odin, can you tell what they're doing with your... magic... power... stuff."

Odin chuckled, then narrowed his eyes, extending his senses. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I can sense a few Lights near us, but the majority is-"

Something slammed into Odin's head, hard enough to almost send him tumbling over. He spun, trying to absorb some of the impact. A fraction of a second later, an awful crack echoed through the area, drowning out the surprised sounds from Garrus and the other Turian.

A horrible pain cut through half of Odin's face, as though someone had ground glass into it, then doused it in gasoline and lit it on fire. The sensation shut off as the pain inhibitors in his armor activated, clamping down on the nerves and replacing the pain with a blessed numbing sensation.

He tried to open his eyes to see what had hit him, then immediately regretted it. Despite the lack of pain, he could feel something jutting out from his skin, cutting into his right eye.

What he could see wasn't much. His vision was tinged with red, his blood if he had to guess. The HUD of his helmet was off, with half of it gone. It took him barely any time to realize just what had happened.

He had been shot in the head. Hard enough to break his helmet, shatter the glass into pieces and send it into his face, but not hard enough to kill him.

Odin gnashed his teeth and stood upright, swearing out curses. He swore in a dozen different languages. Russian, English, Mandarin, even Eliksni and the language of the Cabal. He began to gather energy to destroy the snipers.

There was a sensation of falling. The numb feeling in his face was replaced by... nothing. An utter hollow lack of feeling where there should be something. Dimly, he tried to understand what had happened, looking around, searching for answers.

There was Garrus, his mouth agape. Next to him was his soldier, holding a hand in front of her face, as though she was trying to shield from the sunlight. What were they staring at?

Sluggishly, Odin turned to look more. The building was just as normal, though there appeared to be blood splatters around the room, along with shards of... something. There was his body...

Oh.

He had died.

He could feel his Ghost recalling his Light into it, ready to resurrect him. It would take a few seconds to do so, but after it did, he would be back to normal. Guardians died all the time, after all, something like this would be no trouble to Odin.

All he had to do was wait a bit.

...

Fuck that.

Odin reached out with his mind, grasping towards his body. He felt the small spark of Light that still remained within it, separated from his full Light. He focused on it, fueling it, letting it grow. Through his power, that spark became a flame.

And that flame became a **bonfire.**

Odin erupted from the fabric of reality like an exploding volcano, his body wreathed in solar flames which danced and poured across his body. Twin wings of fire burst from his back, jutting into the air. A corona of light hovered just behind his head, like a halo made from the Sun.

He turned to witness the bridge, across it his killers. He focused his mind, his burning passion, and picked out the tiny Lights of those who had killed him. His brow furrowed and he snarled, Solar Light rippling across his body in response to his desires.

He raised his hand, and the fire leapt to attention, coalescing into a serpent of flame that coiled around and just above him. It hissed, though the noise could have been the sound of the air itself burning.

Odin snapped his fingers.

The construct of flame roared in response, leaping from his body and hurtling towards the snipers. Faintly, Odin could hear the surprised cries and yelps of the aliens as the unfamiliar power attacked them.

Those noises were replaced by screams as the serpent surrounded them, then began to coil in towards them, the sheer temperatures from the creature already melting their armor onto their bodies.

The screams ended quickly as all the air around the snipers was consumed by the construct of fire. It constricted, tighter and tighter, first burning their armor, then their bodies. It turned them into cinder, carbonized husks of what could have once looked like a living being.

Then it even consumed that, leaving not even ashes.

Odin watched as the serpent faded, its job done. With a shuddering breath, he let the flames fade from his body. When he had been only a human he had... experimented a few times, but nothing he had ever encountered came close to Radiance. It was a rush like no other.

But the crash was so much worse as well. The solar fires enhanced every aspect of the Guardian. When that faded, it sometimes made one feel... lesser. Weak. Empty. Odin had long since learned ways to deal with this feeling, but even still it wasn't easy to overcome. He only had his discipline and will to overcome the effects of it.

With a sigh he turned away, only to see Garrus and the other Turian. They were staring slack jawed at him, and the female had almost brought her gun up to a firing position. Odin cocked his head slightly. Why...

Oh. Right. Non-Guardians.

"What the fuck!?" the female suddenly burst out. "What the fuck was that!"

Odin blinked. "Radiance," he said simply. "One of my powers."

"Not fucking that!" she shouted back. "You got shot in the fucking head! How did you survive that!?"

"I didn't."

She ground her teeth and reached one hand (talon? claw?) to rub her head. "So," she bit out, "How. The hell. Are we talking?!"

Odin took a tentative step back, not sure how she was going to react. "...I came back to life."

"Oh he came back to life!" she shouted, flinging her arms wide. She turned and ran to the edge of the balcony, leaning over to shout inside the house. "You hear that everyone! He came back to life! Everything's fine and fucking dandy because he came back to life!"

Garrus sighed as Odin looked between him and her. "Look," the vigilante said. "We don't have your space magic Varrenshit in this galaxy, so try to explain in simple terms just what you did."

Odin rolled his eyes. "I'm a Guardian," he explained. "That means that I was reborn in the Light of the Traveler, you remember it when I explained?" Garrus nodded and he continued. "That Light powers me and fuels my body. My Ghost here regulates that Light, and ensures that everything runs smoothly. If a Guardian dies, their Light returns to their Ghost, who can then resurrect them as though nothing happened."

Garrus paused. "And is every resurrection so... fiery?"

"Well... no. I can revive myself without my Ghost doing so."

Garrus cocked his head. "Right... So death doesn't bother you at all then?"

Odin shrugged. "It's an inconvenience," he said lightly. He glanced at his Ghost. "Ship's arriving."

Garrus blinked, then turned. "Ship's arriving!" he shouted to the inside of the house. "All of you get your asses on board!"

Odin watched as the four hurried out of the building, just as the Aspect of Glass flew over the bridge. It would be a tight fit, but he understood where Garrus was coming from. Better to get them away quicker.

He nodded as they teleported onto the ship. Good now to get them awa-

" **ARCHANGEL!"**

Odin's eyes widened and he ducked as the side of the Aspect of Glass was wracked with gunfire, making it lurch dangerously. A gunship shot past, its searchlight on and its guns blazing. Odin's gaze shot to his Ghost. "Get it out of here!"

The Ghost looked between him and the ship, and the Aspect's engines bloomed, sending it into the depths of Omega as its cloaking activated.

Odin ducked into cover. "Garrus!" he shouted. "I can't fight that thing with my ship! It's not meant for in-atmosphere fighting!"

"Shit!" Garrus shouted back. "Can you teleport us from a distance!"

Odin grit his teeth. "I can with me, but..."

"Shit," Garrus repeated. "Go ahead and do it then! I'll be alright!"

"Fuck that!" Odin shouted back. "You think I'm gonna ditch now?! To hell with that! Both of us go or neither of us go!"

Garrus was silent as the gunship made a strafing run, its gunfire biting into their cover, but not penetrating. "Fine!" he eventually shouted. "But it's your funeral!"

"I've already been to my funeral!" Odin retorted. "I'm not going to die from something as trivial as this."

A ball of Void Light formed in Odin's hand, and he grinned as he began to plan his next moves.

* * *

Xur is selling Gjallarhorn and there's a new chapter of Son of Light!

Welcome back. In this chapter we see more action and character development from Odin, as well as some of the weapons he has. After all, he wouldn't just travel with Hawkmoon.

KINGREADER: In The Last Word's description, it says that Shin Malphur is a renegade hunter, which implies that he's not attached to the Tower or the Guardians. The Last Word is also a rare and famous weapon, which would be coveted by Guardians.

Ddragon21: In Odin's eyes, his Void powers completely outclass biotics in every way. He may copy some biotic powers, but he won't be using biotics himself.

Warlock: He's wearing Obsidian Mind, Gloves of the Hezen Lords, Deathsinger's Herald, and whatever the Warlock in Pathways Out of Darkness was wearing as a coat.

See you all in the next chapter!


	5. As the creeper that girdles the trunk

_O: Reisen. Hey Reisen. Wake up. The Winters are moving._

 _R: Mugh? Ugh, already Odin?_

 _O: Yes already. We need to get to this Archive before the Fallen do._

 _R: Right. Great knowledge, end of the world and such. Just when I was having a wonderful dream too._

 _O: Why do you even bother sleeping? You do realize that we're Guardians. We don't need to._

 _R: It helps me think. Even Hunters need to slow down once in a while._

 _R: Plus...Sometimes I have dreams about my old life. My old ship sailing across the stars with deliveries or outracing pirates, feeling that satisfaction of collecting a bounty. My wife. . . Yeah, good times._

 _O: Yeah, well make sure you're awake. I think they brought a High Servitor and a Baron. Those will be some nice feathers in your cap._

 _R: Or a decorative eyeball in the mess hall._

 _R: Heh. They're really pulling all the stops for this one, that's for damn sure._

 _O: Looks like Master Rahool was right. This place is important. We should move._

 _R: Yeah. I'll scout ahead._

 _O: Good luck_

-Recovered field transcript between Warlock Odin and Hunter Reisen

(0)(0)(0)

For Guardians, the concept of exhaustion was almost nonexistent. Their Light supplied all the energy and strength that one would need, and could regenerate and heal their body in seconds, eliminating the need for sleep. In truth, the only form of fatigue that a Guardian could suffer was of the mental variety, and even then experienced Guardians were more than skilled at ignoring that.

A Guardian who couldn't patrol, explore, or fight for weeks on end was generally considered either a novice or simply unfit for duty by the Tower. During the battle of Twilight Gap, Guardians fought constantly for weeks on end, only resting when they ducked down to let their armor regenerate or to reload their weapons.

Odin himself was not unfamiliar to this. He had spent the last two and a half centuries without sleep, often times fighting against the forces of Darkness for days at a time. In the Vault of Glass, it was entirely possible that he had spent years fighting, with the way that time acts oddly within it.

So fighting for a day and a half against three combined mercenary groups was nothing to Odin. The Darkness didn't seem to exist in this area, so he could come back to life as many times as he wanted. The only thing he really had to worry about was running out of ammo, and even that wasn't much of a concern.

His Icebreaker was incredibly efficient, using only an absolutely tiny amount of Glimmer with each shot. He could fire it for a month before needing to add more of the programmable matter to it. Sure, it ran out of power fairly quickly, but so long as he timed his shots and paid attention to it, it wouldn't be a problem.

Bad Juju fed off the life force of those it killed, refilling its magazine. The cursed weapon didn't need much maintenance or care; so as long as Odin kept killing people with it, it would keep firing, its hunger for combat prolonging the time that he could fight.

And of course there was-

His eyes suddenly widened as he saw a mercenary throw a grenade towards the balcony. The Warlock thrust out his hand, channeling a burst of energy through it and releasing a powerful shockwave. It hit the grenade like a hammer, sending it flying back.

Odin smirked as he saw it explode, taking out both the mercenary who threw it and its friends. That never got old...

"Nice," he heard his companion pant next to him.

Odin spared a glance at Garrus. He was a Guardian, powered by Light and able to fight for as long as he could pull the trigger, but Garrus was just flesh and blood. Odin didn't know how Turian physiology worked, but if it was anything like a human's, then they shouldn't be able to fight this long without fatigue.

Besides, he knew that Garrus was feeling the wear and tear. The Turian's eyes were looking sunken, and his shots were getting sloppy. His combat effectiveness was going down, and it was only a matter of time before he made a critical mistake. Odin didn't mind if he himself died; after all, he could come back, but Garrus only had one life.

Odin had tried to get Garrus to rest, insisting he could hold the position alone, but Garrus would have none of it. The Turian kept saying how it was his responsibility to hold the line with Odin, and that he'd rest either when he was dead or when they won.

At this point, it was looking like Odin would have to force Garrus to rest, either through the use of his Light, or by simply waiting until he burned out. Neither option was particularly appealing to Odin. He wasn't well versed in inducing sleep in mortals with his Light. He was more used to more lethal applications of his powers. The other option was no more attractive, as that carried the risk of long term damage to the Turian.

Odin grit his teeth. Stupid stubborn mortals...

Garrus ducked down. "Cover me," he said, bringing up his omni-tool and tapping it.

Odin raised an eyebrow as he watched his companion work. What was he doing? Hacking? Setting a combat program? Jamming the enemy comms?

Garrus moved back up and shot a merc. "Dad," he said.

...Or he was calling home.

Odin was briefly tempted to have his Ghost hack into the call in order to hear both sides, but decided against it. Even if Garrus was an alien, he deserved privacy in a call home like this. Odin wasn't the most well versed in alien tones of voice, but even he could tell what this was. Garrus intended to have this call be a final message. A last conversation with his family before he kicked the bucket.

Odin rolled his eyes. Drama queen. He didn't have to worry about dying while a Guardian fought with him.

"Just a little target practice," Garrus said as he nailed a mercenary (looked like a Blue Suns) between the eyes.

Odin snorted. He called this target practice? Well, he supposed that it was somewhat of an apt comparison. After all, with the long bridge and the great line of sight that he and Garrus had, the invading mercenaries were literally lining up to be shot.

"I don't think I'll be able to do that," Garrus said, "Too many targets." There was a loud bang as he fired a concussive round, curving it and slamming it into a mercenary's side. The unfortunate soldier went flying, over the bridge, and fell down into the abyss with a scream.

Not to be outdone, Odin focused a ball of Void energy in his hand, then tossed it. It impacted in the middle of the bridge, and a wide "radar" shot out, catching several mercs in its circle. It retracted quickly, and three bolts of Void energy began to track the enemies. One of them, dumbstruck at the odd dark balls, was caught as the bolt sunk into his body.

In an instant, his body was converted to unstable exotic particles, the very atoms in his body broken down and converted into dark matter. The particles in his body became more and more unstable, until it reached a critical point and violently exploded.

One of the mercenaries who was near him was caught in the explosion, and the Void energy caught his body in the cycle as well. The explosion of his body caught yet another mercenary, and began a chain reaction of Void explosions which almost completely cleared that section of the bridge, creating a wide swath of open space and rapidly disintegrating matter.

Garrus spared a brief moment to look at the devastation caused by the Warlock before looking back through his scope and shifting his aim further down. "I just wanted to hear your voice," Garrus said in a tired voice. "Wanted to to know how your retirement was going. You good?"

There was a pause, and when Garrus spoke again, his voice slow and filled with many emotions. Odin was familiar with several of them, he had heard more than of a few in dead Ghosts as he had explored the frontier.

They had been from Guardians who had known that there was no way they were coming back home. Far behind enemy lines, alone and afraid, the Darkness all around. They all had been different. Some had been addressed to lovers. Others had been for close friends. Some had been to mentors, others to students. They had all been for other people.

And yet, in a way, they had all been the same. The words contained within them had been filled with a sort of... resigned sorrow. The Guardians had known they weren't coming home. Cut off from reinforcements, far from the Light of the Traveler, they were going to die, consumed by the Darkness, their mind and soul utterly destroyed.

Clinging to a final shred of hope, the Guardians had recorded their final words in hope that someone would find them. It offered a sort of solace, granting them peace with the possibility that their death wouldn't be in vain. That their sacrifice would buy humanity more time, or a better chance of victory. Odin had found many of these Ghosts, but he held no illusions that for every one he discovered, there was tens that would never be found, the sad and resigned words lost forever in the hostile, wild territory.

Garrus spoke with those words now. "Listen..." he said. "I don't have a lot of time. I wanted to say... You were right about things. A lot more than what I gave you credit for." He gave a tired sigh, and his next words cracked slightly. "And I'm sorry we butted heads so much."

Odin paused slightly. 'Butting heads.' That was a human phrase. Unless the Palaven had an animal like rams or Turians slammed their heads together as some ritual, Garrus must have picked it up somewhere. Had he spent some time with humans? Maybe some of his team.

He cursed as a bullet bounced off his helmet. The mercenaries were getting more reckless, pushing harder. Odin was having to use more and more of his abilities, sending bolts and blasts of both Void and Solar energy out onto the bridge. He was a Warlock and he had lived long enough to make his Light reserves very deep, but even then it was limited. At this rate, he would have to do something desperate.

"So far? Not fast enough," Garrus said. "But they're learning fast." He glanced at Odin. "I have a... friend with me, and he's helping." He paused. "Good. Almost as good as me."

Odin's head shot towards Garrus. Almost as good!? He had, by his lowest estimates, at least twice the Turian's kill count! It was probably more along five times; Garrus was good, but Odin was a Guardian after all. His Light gave him an overwhelming advantage.

'It's actually 6.1 times his count,' the Ghost said into Odin's mind. The Warlock nodded slightly.

Garrus ducked down under the small cover as a hail of fire caused his shields to flare. "You know how it is," he said, "Could always use a couple more." He ejected a steaming thermal clip and, in one smooth movement, fed another one into his rifle with practiced precision, moved back up to lay his rifle on the cover, and fired, nailing a mercenary through the head.

Across the bridge a Krogan roared, and Odin's mouth tightened slightly. He had... limited experience fighting the beasts. They were worse than the Cabal with their insane regeneration and Blood Rage. The closest thing to them in his universe were elite Hive Knights, with their heavy chitinous armor and the way they sometimes went berserk when damaged, healing wounds and charging him.

Luckily enough, Krogans were somewhat... softer than those Knights. The aliens had huge heads that made wonderfully juicy targets.

Odin shifted his aim of his Icebreaker, hovering the small reticule of its eye. He breathed out, relaxed, and squeezed the trigger between heartbeats. The familiar whistling crack of the sniper rifle echoed through the air as the projectile shot directly into the Krogan's eye. It roared in pain, the force of the shot spinning it by a few degrees. Immediately, Odin adjusted his aim and fired again, less than a second after the first one. This second round burrowed itself deep in the Krogan's second eye, destroying the other eye, but not killing it.

Just as Odin had hoped.

The Krogan, blinded and in pain, fell deep into Blood Rage. Unable to see the direction of the shots, it began lashing out, firing and smashing every which way. An unlucky mercenary in drab grey armor got his neck snapped by a backhand, and another had a large hole blown in his chest by a reckless shot.

Odin chuckled. Turning enemies against each other. Never got old. It reminded him of the time he launched a Cursed Thrall directly into an Ogre's mouth. _Huge_ mess, but so worth it. Especially since most of it landed on Reisen...

Garrus gave a brief nod to Odin. "Yeah, we do," the Turian said, some of the tiredness disappearing from his voice. "Thanks, dad. For everything. I have to go now. Don't worry about me... I'll make it home when I can. The odds just got a lot better."

He tapped his omni-tool, canceling the call. "Hey Odin," he said. "Do me a favor?"

Odin paused. "What is it?"

Garrus took a breath. "Look out over there, past the bridge, right where all the mercs are coming from. Do you see a person with grey armor? Should have a logo on their chest that has the symbols of N and 7 next to each other?"

Odin raised an eyebrow. He shifted his aim and zoomed his scope in, peering as far as his line of sight went. Sure enough, there was a person in heavier looking grey armor, talking with some mercs. He zoomed in a bit more, onto their chest, and caught sight of the N7 logo on their chest.

He zoomed out a bit, looking at the person's companions. One of them appeared to be a Salarian. Older one, if Odin was correct, with one of their... horns, he guessed, missing. His outfit was a bit strange, looking somewhat like a lab coat, with a strange device extending from its collar.

The other one was what appeared to be a grizzled mercenary. A long scar ran down one side of his face, and his armor looked brutal and utilitarian. Much of his skin was exposed, and almost all of it was covered in tattoos.

Odin moved his reticule back to the person in grey armor. "You want me to take 'em out?" he asked Garrus, his finger resting on the trigger of his Icebreaker.

"No!" Garrus shouted sharply. He took a breath. "No, just... make sure they survive and get here."

Odin looked at him for a few seconds, his brow furrowed. That was... an interesting reaction. Why would Garrus be so insistent about them getting here? History? Personal vendetta? Rivalry?

Odin shrugged and went back to his scope. He began to search for his next target, his reticule dancing among the many mercenaries. Who would it be? The Eclipse Asari who looked like it was talking to its omni-tool? The Blue Suns Batarian who was yelling at a human in tan armor? The Vorcha clustered in a group? That would make a juicy target for Icebreaker's abilities...

Odin stopped.

He scowled. "Garrus, I'm sensing Lights coming in from behind and below us."

Garrus did a double take at him. "Behind and below..." He cursed. "The tunnels! They must be trying to get through! Dammit, I should have expecting this."

Odin bit his lip and looked out over the mercenaries. There was a lot of them coming, but both he and the Garrus combined could hold out for quite a while. But if he let them flank both of them, they would be pressed _hard_. Odin may be a strong Guardian, but even his abilities were limited.

Odin thought for a few more moments, then nodded as he decided on a course of action. "Garrus," he said. "You think you can hold this area for a while?"

The Turian looked at him. "You're going to deal with the ones down there?"

"That's the idea," Odin said.

Garrus hesitated for a few seconds before snorting and turning back to his scope. "Just watch me."

Odin smirked and stood up, turning away from the balcony. He dismissed Icebreaker, the weapon digitizing into his Ghost's databanks. With a thought, he pulled forth another weapon, one that was a long time companion to him.

Once it had been another's, a stern protector that helped her through the Collapse and beyond. It had killed foes both human and alien, cutting down all within its path. When its owner's ship had been shot down again and again, _it_ was what ensured her survival.

But in time, its owner had stopped traveling the stars. Stopped fighting and exploring and being shot down. She had not retired, for her kind did not simply retire, but she no longer went to the front lines.

No, her skills were needed elsewhere. Her keen mind and vast experience could mean the difference between a won and lost battle. She was needed, not as a warrior or a simple scholar, but as a leader.

And so she hung up her metaphorical blade and literal gun. She became something that her juniors would strive for. A leader among her peers. A hero for those who would come after her.

A Vanguard for the future.

But a weapon cannot be without a master. Without one, what is the difference between it and a simple hunk of metal? And hers, despite its legend, despite its power, despite its making, was a weapon. Without a master to wield it, it was powerless. Perhaps useful as a symbol, but even then it could not destroy the enemies of its creators. It could not bring its wrath upon those who would threaten humanity.

It was powerless.

But then he came along. He was not as great as its previous master. He was not as strong, not as wise, not as experienced. He was young compared to her, and had not yet proven his mettle. He had faced enemies, but they had been weak and undisciplined.

However, he had potential. Perhaps not talent, but certainly drive. He carved his path with fire and light, and in time his power grew. He became experienced and wise. He tasted battle and death again and again and never buckled under the weight. He carried his burden of being a Guardian for humanity without complaining, and in time he came into his own as a brilliant defender of the Light.

And so it gained a new master. One that was so similar to its previous one, yet so different. He treated the weapon with respect, ensuring that its might would never wane and the enemies of man would be torn asunder by its power. He wielded it in the darkest of places, where others would fall and be destroyed.

It was that weapon that Odin now held in his hands. The weapon forged in the Golden Age and used as both a first and last resort. Its body was of fire and the forge, the coal-grey metal marked with fiery orange lights. Its mysterious internal workings hummed, as if it was eager to get to its grisly work, and its master was more than happy to satisfy it.

Odin smiled, pumped Invective, and walked off.

(0)(0)(0)

"Fallen technology? Really?"

"Hey, if they were effective against Guardians, they'll be more than effective against these mooks."

"I'm not concerned about their effectiveness. I'm concerned about whether they'll work."

"I got these from Variks, they'll work...I think."

"That doesn't reassure me."

Odin rolled his eyes as he placed the bottom half of the mine on the ground. He put a small ball in the slot, nestled within numerous exposed wires and circuits. Slowly, he put the top half upon it, then twisted it until he heard a click.

He stood up, smirking slightly, before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a small metal stick, about a foot long. It was covered with numerous spikes, and one end had a small hole in it.

Odin focused, and the stick began to hum slightly as a violet glow began to fill the stick. Once it reached a certain level, Odin nodded and slammed the spiked end into the ceiling, right above the mine.

He repeated the process with the stick twice more, placing one right behind and in front of the mine. Once he was done, he stepped back to admire his handiwork. "There," he said. "A perfect trap."

His Ghost bobbed above his shoulder. "...I don't see it," it said in a low tone.

Odin sighed. "Look, they'll move down this hallway and trigger the shock mine. That thing will shoot up into the air and create the shock field, which will trigger the spike grenades. Those will fill the room with Void energy, which normally wouldn't be too bad, but with the mercenaries stuck in the shock field..."

The Ghost blinked. "...Oh." It looked back at the trap Odin had set up. "...That's actually really devious."

"Of course it is," Odin said, his hands on his hips and a grin on his lips. "It's one of my traps."

The Ghost rolled its eye. It looked around. "What now?"

Odin frowned. "I've booby-trapped two of the three exits. Those two are bottlenecks, great for holding off enemies, but the third..."

"It's wide open," the Ghost said, looking down at it. Indeed, it appeared to be a hangar or warehouse. There was plenty of cover in the form of boxes and vehicles, but the building itself was several meters wide. The entrance to it was barely better, leaving plenty of space for invaders to enter without worrying about being bottlenecked.

The traps he had planted in the first two exits would be much less effective here. Odin would need several more mines and spike grenades, and even then the open space would allow the enemies to bypass them without much trouble. Unless he completely saturated the opening to the hanger with traps, they would be less than effective, and Odin wasn't willing to do that. He had no idea how long his glimmer supplies would last, or even if he could find a way to convert normal matter into glimmer. If he used too much, he might run out before he found a way home.

A dedicated team of fighters might have been able to hold it, and Odin was more than worth such a team, but even so he was only one person. He might be able to kill the first few waves of invaders, but eventually he'd be flanked. He wouldn't be able to stop every enemy if that happened.

If he were a Titan, he would probably try to hold the area. Create a wall of Light to hold them back, or send wave after wave of destruction to obliterate them. Were he a Hunter, he'd lead them on ambushes, frustrating them to a point where they'd do nothing but hunt him down.

But he was a Warlock, and his kind was based in flexible, flowing maneuvers and plans. They controlled the battlefield with a subtle touch, and Odin was no different. He couldn't hold on forever, not in a place as wide as the hanger, but he might be able to convince the attackers that it was a bad idea to try and take it.

"Once they get through the traps," he said out loud, part talking to his Ghost, part thinking out loud. "I'll fall back to the stairs. I'll have the high ground and they'll be bottlenecked. Invective is best at close ranges like that. With its self replicating magazine, I should be able to hold out until they give up."

His Ghost looked at him. "And if they bring heavy weapons? Or something similar?"

Odin shrugged. "I'll think of something."

The Ghost rolled its eye. "Of course. How very like you."

The Warlock chuckled as he began to walk towards the opening of the opening of the hanger. He began to gather Light into his body, filing his form with swirling Void and Solar energy in preparation for the fight ahead. It was a warmth, one that he felt from his head to the bottom of his feet. He had felt it many, many times before, in each battle that he had fought in over the hundreds of years he had existed. The feeling never got old.

In the distance, he could hear the roars and cries of the invaders. Based from the sounds, he'd guess that they were those Blood Pack mercenaries, the ones made up of Krogan and Vorcha. From what he had read, they tended to be excellent shock troops due to their regeneration and natural aggression.

Odin smiled and hefted Invective. That wouldn't be a problem.

A Krogan rounded the corner, appearing in sight. It turned, saw Odin, then charged, roaring a battle cry. It began to eat up the distance quickly, each step thumping and clanging as it hit the ground. Almost 200 kilos of armor, meat, and bone, all hurtling towards the Guardian.

Odin smiled, raised Invective, and squeezed the trigger.

Despite what most Guardians think, shotguns are more than ultra-close range weapons. Properly created or customized, their shot spread can be highly tightened, creating a small, dense cloud of projectiles instead of the wall that most Guardians prefer. This customization offers increased range and stopping power at the price of needing better aim. Odin's Invective had been customized to have as tight a spread as possible.

So when the superheated lead hit the Krogan, it turned its head into so much shredded meat and bone.

The Krogan's upper half swept backwards and it tumbled and slid, feet first. The sheer momentum of its charge meant that it continued for several meters, its armor screeching against the ground and its blood creating a grisly trail as it moved towards Odin. He casually stepped out of the way of it, pumped Invective and took aim again.

A Vorcha popped its head out and screeched at Odin, only to have its head turn into flaming gore. Another was almost cut in half by the superheated lead. Yet another had a large chunk of its body torn away. Again and again did the troops come, and again and again did Odin cut them down.

Invective was made of Golden Age technology, formed of mysteries that Odin could not claim to even begin to understand. The shotgun, unlike most others, was semi-automatic. The forestock was not used to cock it, but rather to activate the self-replicating magazine hidden within it. When activated, this magazine, as far as Odin could tell, casually violated the first law of thermodynamics in creating something out of nothing.

Bad Juju fed on the life force of those it had slain, refilling its magazine out of the Light of the dead. Icebreaker was merely incredibly efficient, being able to have a small amount of glimmer last several months. But Invective? It was not supernatural like the pulse rifle, nor efficient like the sniper rifle. Its inner workings were a mystery, but one that Odin was incredibly thankful for at the moment.

A small frown graced his lips as he pumped Invective. He kept killing them, but they just kept on coming. He had already killed almost two dozen of them, and their bodies were starting to pile, but the flow of enemies wasn't stopping. In that case...

Odin focused Void Light into his left hand, the dark energy creating an eerie purple glow. He swept his hand, and several balls of pure energy flew from it. They moved in shallow arcs, almost gliding through the air.

Then they impacted, and there was only blinding light and deafening sound.

When both faded, the front lines of the Blood Pack had been almost obliterated. The shattered nova bomb had detonated with enough force to sunder the invaders. The area was bloodless and bodiless, the power of the attack disintegrating any organic matter in the area and leaving it entirely clean.

But the attack had not eliminated the invaders. It had merely bought Odin a bit of time, enough to catch his breath and plan his next moves. Eventually, the flood of bodies began again, and although Odin tried to stem the tide, he was eventually forced back.

On his HUD, he noticed a flashing red triangle. He frowned. That must have meant the invaders had begun to trip the traps he had planted in the other locations. Sure enough, a second later he heard the telltale snap-boom-crackle of the shock mines, followed by the ethereal sound that the spike grenades made as they went off.

His frown turned into a scowl, and he began to backpedal more rapidly. The traps he had lain would buy him maybe thirty seconds. A few more if he was lucky. It wasn't enough to make a serious dent in the invader's plans, but it was enough to give Odin a warning, as well as an opening to retreat.

As he passed the doorway that marked one of the entrances he focused a ball of Void Light into his hand, then threw it down upon the ground. As it impacted, a swirling sphere of dark light burst into existence, turning the part of the floor it touched into powder. Another delaying tactic, but a tried and true one that Odin had used before.

He took a few steps back, calling up his mental map of the area. If he was right, and he was fairly sure he was, then a few meters back was the stairs. He could hold that fairly well, but if the invaders brought-

 **Behind!**

He whirled, bringing up Invective directly towards the Lights he had sensed behind him. His mind spun in confusion. How did they get past his traps? Did they have some tech he hadn't read about or anticipated? Was there another route? His finger began to squeeze the tri-

AMARIS!?

...No, not Amaris, not his old mentor. They were so similar. Their hair was both the same bright gold. They had the same stance, the one that demanded absolute authority and attention. Their eyes were both the same emerald green. They both had the same square jaw.

But they were different as well. Amaris had a massive frame, one befitting of a Titan. She was larger than most other Guardians, easily exceeding six feet, and she sometimes seemed like she had a body of iron.

The woman in front of him was strong, there could be no doubt about that, but she was not as tall as Odin's old mentor, nor as massive. She was actually rather short, less than five and a half feet. From what Odin could tell, she was more lithe than large, with a body that encouraged dexterity over power.

Her hairstyle was different as well, put in a ponytail rather than the tight bun that Amaris preferred. The very fact that Odin could see that was another difference. The only place where Amaris _wasn't_ wearing her helmet was the Tower. Most people she fought beside didn't even know what she looked like.

No, this woman was not Odin's old mentor. She was familiar, oh so achingly familiar, but not her.

All these thoughts passed through Odin's head in the span of approximately a second, giving him just enough time to stiffen his finger and avoid blowing the woman's head off with Invective. He didn't know if she was a friend of Garrus or had simply killed him, but she was human, and Odin wasn't about to kill one of his own kind without finding out their intent.

The fact that two guns were also pointed at him wasn't factored in at all. Really.

It was she who spoke first. "So..." she said, "I'm guessing you're Odin."

The Warlock in question raised an eyebrow. "Garrus told you?"

She nodded. "I'm an old friend of his. Name's Shepard."

Odin nodded slowly. Looked like Garrus was still standing. Good to hear. He had grown fond of the Turian in the short time he'd know him. Garrus wasn't on the same level of companionship as Variks, but he was the second alien who hadn't immediately tried to kill him.

The screeches and roars of the Blood Pack washed over the three. Odin clicked his tongue. "Shit," he said out loud. He turned to the woman. "Shepard, I'm going to need your help holding them off."

She nodded. "There are switches which will trigger blast doors. If we seal those, their advance stops."

...Wait what?

"Huh?" Odin said out loud.

Shepard blinked. "The blast doors? Garrus must have told you about them."

Odin shook his head. "No, he... oh Traveler dammit, I told him to rest."

Shepard's eyebrows furrowed at the odd expression. "Traveler?"

"Long story. Look, can you and your companion-" He looked at the old Salarian he had seen earlier. "-deal with the other two blast doors? I can take the hangar one."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "By yourself? That place must be crawling with Blood Pack."

Odin pumped Invective and grinned under his helmet. "Oh, don't worry. I've dealt with worse."

Shepard hesitated a few moments, then nodded. "Good luck."

Odin turned and began to gather Light into himself. "I don't need it, but thanks."

(0)(0)(0)

"Garrus, you asshole! Why didn't you tell me about the blast doors?!"

The Turian in question turned to witness Odin storming up the stairs, Shepard and the Salarian on his heels. "I tried to," Garrus said. "You ran off before I could."

"Well, what about comms!?" Odin growled as he walked to the balcony.

Garrus gave him a dry look. "You never gave me your frequency."

Odin paused. "...Oh," he said lamely.

Shepard chuckled, walking up to the balcony. She looked at the older human who had been standing near Garrus. "Good work Zaeed."

The man nodded. "No problem Shepard." He glanced at Odin, looking him up and down. "So you're the one who's scared the piss out of the Blue Suns."

Shepard nodded as Odin raised an eyebrow. "I heard it as well. They're calling you The Revenant."

Odin raised his other eyebrow. "The Revenant?"

"Human mythology," the Salarian spoke in quick words. "Undead with a purpose which comes back from the grave to terrorize the living."

"You've cut a bloody swath through their forces. They say that they've killed you five times," Shepard said. "And that each time you get back up, more powerful than ever."

Odin snorted. "Don't be ridiculous."

Shepard smirked and began to turn away. "Of course."

"It was only three times."

Shepard did a double take. "Wait what?"

Garrus nodded. "It sounds insane, but trust me, it's true. I've seen it happen."

Odin waved his hand. "Long story. Short of it is that I'm a dimensional traveler with incredible powers that seem magical. Clarke's Third Law and such."

"Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," the Salarian quoted. He brought a hand up to his mouth in a thinking position. "Fascinating..."

"It doesn't matter right now," Shepard said, shaking her head. "What's important is getting out of here. Only the Blue Suns are left, so I think we should fight our way out."

Garrus nodded. "I think you're right. Tarak's got the toughest group, but nothing we haven't faced before. Besides, he won't be expecting us to meet him head on-"

" **ARCHANGEL!** "

Time did not slow for Odin as the window of the balcony shattered and the Blue Suns gunship appeared, its machine gun spinning up. No, it was more of his mind accelerating, becoming quicker and more reactive. Time moved normally, but Odin moved faster, with every facet of the situation being observed, analyzed, and processed in a fraction of a second.

Odin and Garrus had been unable to bring down the gunship, only heavily damage it. It must have been repaired. The room was wide open with the window broken. The furniture was poor cover. The rounds from the gunship would go right through them. Other pieces of cover were viable, but could be poor options if flanked. Best defense was to get out the line of sight from the gunship.

Where was the gunship aiming? Not at Odin. Did the pilot know about his resurrection ability and want to reduce other opponents before dealing with him? Annoying, but effective tactic. Shepard? No, line of fire wasn't on her, nor her companions. Where then?

Garrus. Made the most sense. Personal vendetta against Archangel. Saw him as the most dangerous (offensive to Odin). Get him out of the game quicker? Also made sense.

Should Odin save him? He was an alien, true, but a friendly one. Minimal risk to Odin if he did. Death? Not a problem. Pain? Long experienced with it. Equipment damage? Possibility and annoyance, but easily fixed.

Saving him it was.

Everything began to happen at once, action upon action overlapping.

Odin reached out with his mind, focusing on the spot next to Garrus.

Shepard and her teammates began to dive for cover.

The gunship's machine gun began to spin up.

Odin Blinked and grabbed onto Garrus.

The machine gun fired.

Shepard and co hit the floor.

Odin Blinked again into cover, releasing Garrus and tumbling to the ground.

Everything seemed to resume again. Garrus began to gasp and cough. "Spirits!" he shouted. "What the hell was that?"

Odin groaned, holding his side. "Blink," he said, coughing slightly. "Short range teleport."

Garrus shook his head, then stopped when he saw Odin. "You alright?"

Odin nodded. "Yeah... one of the bullets nailed me in the side. Punched right through my robes." He growled. "Pain in the ass."

Garrus' eyes widened and he stood up, only for Odin to raise a hand. "No," the Warlock said. "I'll be fine." He took a breath and stood. "Already healed."

"Incoming!" Shepard shouted.

Odin and Garrus whirled to see the window at the other end of the room shatter as well, and multiple Blue Suns rappel into the room. One of them raised a gun at Odin, only to have his head snap back as a gunshot rang out.

Odin turned to see the older human cock a sniper rifle. The Warlock nodded at him, then turned and drew Bad Juju. He began to lay down covering fire as Garrus ran into cover.

A white ball sped out of the corner of Odin's eye and impacted on one of the Blue Suns. There was a cracking sound as a white frost began to spread up its body from the impact point. The mercenary began to scream as the ice covered it, the noise only stopping when it covered its head, completely freezing it.

Odin turned to see the Salarian in the lab coat raise an arm, its omni-tool flaring to life and a flaming sphere flying from it. He followed the projectile with his gaze, only to see it impact against the frozen mercenary.

The statue exploded, sending shards of ice hurtling into the other mercenaries. Odin raised an eyebrow at the display. That was certainly an interesting way of using thermal expansion...a pity there wasn't any Ice or Frost Light.

Odin began to raise Bad Juju when something that looked like a blue comet screamed past him. It slammed into a mercenary who looked like she had a holographic set of armor around her. She went flying back out the window, screaming all the way down. Meanwhile, Shepard appeared where the comet had been. She raised a shotgun and gunned down another mercenary.

Odin blinked. What... what was that?! It looked like a weaponized blink! How did it work? From what Odin could see, Shepard wreathed herself in Void... no, it'd be biotic energy, wouldn't it? She launched herself forward with some means? Biotics did deal with altering mass. Maybe it worked by rapidly altering the wielders mass from minimal to massive in order to inflict that incredible impact? But then how did she launch forward in the first pla-

Bullets from the gunship wracked the balcony, causing Odin to duck and curse. Traveler, that thing was a pain in the ass! If it wasn't taken out soon, then Odin and the others were going to be pressed to deal with the invaders.

Looked like it was up to him...

"Cover me!" Odin shouted. "I'm going to deal with the gunship!"

"The hell did he say?!" Zaeed shouted back.

"Just do it!" Shepard said over the gunfire.

Odin holstered Bad Juju and stood, running over to the balcony. His eyes caught the gunship, sweeping back and forth in the air. He inhaled, predicted the movements of the ship, then dashed forward. His foot stepped on the lip of the balcony, and he went sailing into the air.

The gunship seemed to pause, as though the pilot couldn't believe what Odin had just done. After all, what kind of crazy fool would try to _board_ a gunship mid-flight? It juked to the side, out of Odin's trajectory. At his current speed, the Warlock would completely miss it, landing on the bridge instead of the gunship.

Well, Odin couldn't have that now, could he?

He reached out with his mind and Blinked to the cockpit window, landing with a slam. He channeled Void Light through the fingers on his left hand, disintegrating the glass and creating small holes in the windshield's surface, giving him a handhold. He reared his other hand back and brought it down on the windshield.

It bounced off with a loud _bonk_ noise.

Odin frowned. Damn thing was too tough to break like that. In that case...

He reached out his hand and began to access his Ghost's digital inventory. He swiftly found the weapon he wanted, materializing it directly into his palm. His fingers closed around the familiar handle and he grinned.

Once the gun had been a weapon of the Light. It, and its wielder, had been paragons. The people looked up to him and hope filled their hearts. The wielder had been a hero. A man, but still a hero, and that brought a promise to the people, that any could rise up and be a hero as well.

The weapon he had wielded had been as a beautiful flower, blooming for humanity. A promise of a better tomorrow, a promise that the people would reclaim that which they had lost. That the evil would be pushed back.

But there is Darkness in all hearts, even in the brightest of men. Pride. Arrogance. Fear. Sorrow. These drove the hero into the depths of corruption. He began to be tempted by that which he had once fought against. His Light dimmed, becoming fainter and fainter until it was extinguished altogether and only Darkness remained.

Where once a hero stood, now there was only a villain. A terrible and awful man.

Same flesh. Same bone. But so very different.

He tore a bloody swath through the people, slaughtering the very ones he had once sworn to protect. The beautiful flower he had once wielded had no petals any longer. It could deliver no hope. Only sorrow.

In time, the fallen hero was felled by the son of one he had killed, and the weapon he had wielded was lost to the ages.

For a time at least. Eventually, one found the weapon. Most of his kind would have destroyed it on sight, seeing the corrupted weapon as a shameful blight on their people's history and reputation.

Not he. He held no hesitations in his heart, for against his enemy, no advantage should ever be turned away. He fought a war against extinction, and in such a war, any alternative aside from defeat is preferable.

So he traveled across the lands, finding the pieces to turn the gun into a weapon of Light once again. He delved into the deepest of caverns to slay minions of the Dark, satiated its bloodlust, and infused it with so much Light that it may be turned from its history.

And he did it. The weapon was... not purified, for it could not be after its history, but no longer was it fully corrupted. It was a balance, not of the Dark, but not completely of the Light. It would kill that which it had once served with unending hate, but it could never be an icon of hope again. Its petals had long since wilted, and none remained.

All that was left was jagged Thorns.

Odin pointed the weapon towards the windshield and squeezed the trigger. An abyssal sound rang out as it fired, and a large spike made of black iron, wider than the gun itself, slammed into glass. It sank into the windshield, but did not fully penetrate. Nevertheless, the Thorn's danger wasn't just in its projectiles' impact, but in what happened after.

A hissing noise came from the projectile, and black lines began to spread from it, covering a small portion of the window. Odin grinned, holstered Thorn to his thigh, brought his hand back, and slammed it against the screen again. There was a slight crunching noise, but it continued to hold.

Odin scowled and drew Thorn again. He fired three more times, shooting the black iron spikes into the screen in a triangular formation. The hissing noise intensified, and the screen between the shots became almost completely black.

He holstered the weapon again and slammed his fist against the screen. Then again. Then again. Then, on the fourth time, the window fragmented inward, revealing the Batarian pilot controlling the gunship.

The mercenary screamed, fumbling with a pistol. He brought it up, pointed directly at Odin's head, and began to fire it as rapidly as he could pull the trigger.

Odin didn't so much as blink as the bullets bounced off his helmet, the Light infused armor not even being so much as scratched by the lead grains. He growled and reached through the windshield to grab the Batarian by the collar. He glanced backwards, calculated trajectory, and leapt, bringing the mercenary with him.

The Batarian screamed as they sped through the air, gravity nullified by Odin's powers. They arced slowly, through the balcony window and into the room, where Odin slammed the mercenary onto the ground just as the gunship fell out of the sky and exploded.

The Batarian pointed the pistol he was holding at Odin's head and pulled the trigger, only for the gun to make a clicking noise. "Monster!" it gasped, trying to make the gun fire. "Monster!"

Odin stood and surveyed his surroundings. The other Blue Suns had been cleared out. Garrus, Shepard, and her companions were standing, staring at Odin. The room was pretty banged up, with plenty of bullet holes and scorch marks, but was altogether intact. The bridge leading to the house, on the other hand, looked like it had been through a war. Which it somewhat had been, now that Odin thought about it.

Altogether, one of Odin's more clean missions.

He kicked the Batarian towards Garrus. "Here," Odin said. "All yours."

Garrus looked down at the hyperventilating Batarian for a few moments before he drew a pistol and put a single round through its head.

Odin shrugged. "Not what I would have done, but that works." He looked back over the bridge. "I think they're all just about dead. Now may be a good time to leave."

Shepard nodded. She turned away and pressed a finger to her ear. "Joker, bring the shuttle around."

Odin raised an eyebrow. Joker? Interesting name. Well, if they're bringing their ship...

'Ghost, get the Aspect of Glass. This should be _very_ interesting.'

* * *

 **AN: Welcome back to Son of Light! In this chapter, Shepard finally appears and Odin gets off Omega. This is where the real story starts.**

 **One thing I feel that I should mention about the story. The narration is entirely from Odin's perspective. It's third person, but is through his eyes. I don't necessarily share some of the opinions I write in this. If you see an opinion, assume it's Odin's. One example is the way he refers to enemies as objects rather than people. He has read the Books of Sorrow.**

 **KINGREADER: It's referenced several times within the game that Guardians do die and are revived by their Ghosts. A piece of Hunter armor gives instructions for clearing a minefield by repeatedly dying to the mines before being resurrected, and there's a Warlock bond where Ikora mentions that she can't remember how many times she's died.**

 **edboy4926: Odin's Ghost does in fact have several recordings. Those will come into play in later chapters.**

 **Eipok: By sentient I'm referring to fully self aware, has created a civilization, and can do basic algebra. Given that there aren't any references to any other species on Thessia that has any of those three, I'm assuming that there aren't.**

 **Dnar Semaj: The closest shader I can think of is Cryptographc, and he does not have access to the Stormcaller class... yet.**

 **Konerok Hadorak: Ho boy, this is a long and awesome review. I'll try to cover what you commented on the best I can.**

 **For this story, I'm ignoring most of Destiny crunch/gameplay, for the main reason that those stuff are used for balancing purposes and not lore. The main exception to this will be Exotic Weapon perks, like Bad Juju's String of Curses. Odin can access both Sunsinger and Voidwalker powers without "resetting" them, but his pool of Light isn't infinite. It does need to regenerate, so he can't throw them out willy nilly. This is especially true for Supers. Those take a while to recharge.**

 **When I started this story, I considered having Odin hide the fact that he was from another universe, but in the end decided against it for two reasons. Firstly, I feel like the hiding thing is kinda overdone, and secondly I felt it was out of character for Odin. He's a Guardian, a being of immense power and experience. He's faced down the worst the Darkness could throw at him and has killed gods. Why should he be scared of some soldiers from a backwater galaxy? Let them come. He'll strike them down again and again. And if they kill him? He'll just come back to life. As for Aria and people questioning, remember that he's on Omega at the moment. Aria either doesn't believe him or doesn't care, and either way, he hasn't broken the One Rule. For the other people, who would believe him? If he demonstrated powers and people spread the word, others would dismiss it as conjecture, rumor, or outright falsehood. Also, word doesn't really travel outside Omega unless it's really important, and a few people seeing a person with weird powers isn't really that important.**

 **On the matter of subclasses, as I mentioned above, Odin does not have access to the Stormcaller class... yet. And remember, Thor was the god of thunder, not Odin.**

 **In terms of the Vex, I have no plans for them invading the ME universe in the future of the story.**

 **In terms of Odin's Light, I'm considering the Ghosts as conduits for Light to reach the Guardians, and you're right, the Light of the Traveler does transcend time and space to be able to reach a Ghost in an alternate dimension. You're also right again, Odin's senses aren't that powerful, but remember that he's used to only living in one star system.**

 **In terms of other Guardians, I don't currently have plans of bringing another living Guardian into the story.**

 **Yeah, Odin is powerful, but is so for a reason. In terms of looking at what ME characters can do and what Guardians can do, Guardians are a _lot_ more powerful. However, that doesn't mean that other characters are going to be useless. They'll certainly be awesome as well.**

 **Thanks so much for the reviews all. I really appreciate it. I'm not sure how long the next chapter will take. On one hand I've set up a system where I write at least a little bit everyday, and that helps with getting chapters out faster.**

 **On the other hand, Taken King is coming out in two days. Hype.**

 **I'll see you next chapter! Enjoy The Taken King!**


	6. The Law Runneth Forward and Back

_1: Did you hear about Odin?_

 _2: Odin?_

 _1: The guy who went into the Black Garden? Killed its heart?_

 _2: Wait, the Warlock that the Speaker hates?_

 _1: Same one._

 _2: What about him?_

 _1: Well, I've been hearing... rumours about him._

 _2: And?_

 _1: Well... they've been saying that he and Ikora are... together._

 _2: ...Together together?_

 _1: Yeah._

 _2: Bullshit. No way a Vanguard would go for someone who's probably going to be exiled._

 _1: I don't know. I talked with a guy from Fireteam The Bad Guys Don't Care About What We Call Ourselves Now Do They and they said they've seen him coming out of Ikora's quarters a few times._

 _2: First of all, you don't need to say that entire fireteam name. Second of all, that could mean anything. They're both Warlocks, so they're probably doing research stuff or whatever the hell Warlocks do._

 _2: Besides, does Ikora seem like the type of person who would go for romance?_

 _1: Well, no, but it's a possibility._

 _2: It's also a possibility you're not an idiot. Take it from me, there's no way in hell Ikora would be with someone like him._

 _3: What about Ikora and me?_

 _1 &2: OH SHI-_

 _-Transcript cuts out._

(0)(0)(0)

The communications room of the Normandy SR2 served a multirole purpose. It was used for a variety of functions, from ship meetings, to briefings, to communications with the built in QEC. Nestled in the center of the ship, it was perhaps the most secure location in the cruiser, and could be sealed for highly sensitive meetings.

However, this was not to say that it was completely utilitarian; quite the opposite. The designers of the room had put in beautiful modern themes, with smooth lines, ambient lighting, and even some wood paneling. The central table was made partially of this panelling, with a glass center. All in all, the room had a very clean, soothing feel to it.

However, none of this seemed to help Shepard as she stared over the table. She had been like this for some time since they had gotten back to the Normandy and Garrus had collapsed. While he had been rushed to the infirmary, Shepard had gone here to talk with a raven haired woman currently in the room with her.

At the moment, the Commander was hunched over the table, staring down into the glass section. Her hands were tight on the edge, and her lips were a thin line, drawn taut against her mouth. "Miranda," she said out loud. "How is he?"

The other woman blinked. "Vakarian? Physically he's fine. He has a few minor wounds and was suffering from exhaustion, but other than that he has no problems. He'll be completely recovered after rest, some medi-gel, and a meal."

Shepard sagged, releasing a breath. "Good..." she said. "That's... really good."

The woman nodded. "Indeed. I'm impressed he lasted so long against the three mercenary groups and only sustained such minor injuries, even if he had help." She paused. "Speaking of which Commander, I want to talk about-"

She was interrupted as the door opened, and the blue armored Turian appeared in the doorway. He walked in without hesitation, giving off a grin. "Shepard. Good to see you."

Shepard gave off a warm smile. "Garrus. About time you got off your ass. Here I thought you were getting lazy since I was gone."

The Turian gave an offended look. "Me? Tired? You need your eyes checked, Shepard."

She laughed. "And what do you call falling asleep as soon as we got into the shuttle?"

Garrus snorted. "I didn't fall asleep, I was just resting my eyes."

Shepard laughed a bit more. "If that's what you want to call it!" She smiled and walked over to him. "It's good to see you again," she said, extending a hand.

Garrus grasped it. "Same. It's been too long." He looked around. "You've got a shiny new Normandy too. So..." He looked at her. "So, what went wrong this time?"

"Commander?"

"It's the Collectors," Shepard said. "As far as we can tell, they're abducting human colonies."

Garrus scowled. "That's not good. You think it's the Reapers?"

"Commander."

"We don't have any substantial evidence," Shepard said, "but we believe so."

"Shit," Garrus said simply.

"Commander!"

"I'm putting together a team," Shepard explained. "We're going to hit the Collector's right where they live, past the Omega-4 Relay."

Garrus chuckled. "And you need the best, so you recruited me? I feel honored."

"To be fair," Shepard said, "I didn't know it was you at the time. Archangel has a pretty big reputation."

"Well..." Garrus said.

"Shepard!"

The Commander frowned and looked over at the other woman. "What is it Miranda?" she asked. "I'm trying to catch up with an old friend."

"I have no problem with that," the raven haired woman said. "But what is **he** doing here?" She pointed towards one of the corners of the room.

Odin blinked and shifted off the railing he was sitting on. "About time you acknowledged I was here," he said. "I was beginning to think that you were pretending I didn't exist."

Shepard looked at the other woman. "What's the problem Miranda?"

She scowled. "We don't know anything about him," she said. "He has odd and incredible powers, and he showed up out of nowhere. For all we know, he could be a servant of the Reapers."

Odin blinked. "The fuck is a Reaper?"

Garrus stepped forward. "He helped me during the siege, and he saved my team. I trust him."

Shepard looked at Miranda. "There you go."

Miranda pressed her palm against her face and made a grumbling noise. "Commander, I have to object to this. The Illusive Man-"

"Doesn't run this ship," Shepard interrupted. "I do. If you have a problem with my decisions, then too bad. If I say he stays, he stays. Am I clear Miranda?"

The raven haired woman paused, then sighed. "Crystal, Commander."

"Excuse me," Odin spoke up. "But I haven't exactly decided to stay here."

Garrus chuckled. "Come on, you followed me on this ship. You know you want in on this."

"Actually," Odin said in a sickly sweet voice, "I came here because you still have my gun."

There was a silence.

"O-oh," Garrus said lamely. He reached behind his back and drew the gleaming handcannon. "Here."

Odin gently took the Hawkmoon. A sense of... rightness filled his chest. The Hawkmoon was _his_ gun, forged from his efforts and his Light. To have it in somebody else's hands felt wrong.

But it was back in his hands now, and Odin could tell that it wasn't just him who was satisfied. Certain weapons that the Guardians wielded could gain a limited sapience, either through advanced Golden Age technology, or simply being infused with so much Light or Darkness during their lifespan. Super Good Advice was one of the greatest examples of the former, being fully self aware.

Hawkmoon wasn't quite fully self aware, but Odin did know that it possessed emotions and a sense of loyalty. Once, another Guardian had "borrowed" the handcannon from Odin. In the field, however, Hawkmoon constantly jammed and refused to fire. As far as Odin could tell, the gun was simply outraged at being used by someone who wasn't its wielder.

But now it was back in his hands, and he could sense the contentment from it. It was ready to be wielded, to unleash its fury upon his enemies. It did not demand satisfaction like Bad Juju did, but merely waited for his call.

Odin smiled and placed it on the back of his hip. That was all he asked.

"Now then," he said, looking back up at the others in the room. "We were talking about me staying here or not."

Shepard nodded. "You would make a great addition to my team. I'm not going to force you to stay though."

Odin took a breath and thought for a moment. "You said these aliens were attacking human colonies?"

Shepard paused, then nodded. "Yes. They're already taken almost half a dozen of colonies. They've been capturing humans for some reason. We only managed to find out who was doing it when we stumbled on a survivor from the most recent one."

Odin rubbed his chin. "Aliens attacking human colonies," he muttered. "Just like home..."

He sighed. "Alright, I'm in."

Shepard blinked. "Just like that?"

"Yep," Odin said.

"No random things you need me to do?"

"Nope."

"No enemies I have to kill to get you to come with me?"

"Not a one."

"No hoops I need to jump through?"

Odin paused. "Do... you not want me here?"

"No!" Shepard said suddenly. "No, it's just... every time I've tried to recruit someone for a mission, there's always something they need me to do before they come with me. It's kind of... strange to have someone just ready to go."

Odin chuckled. "Darkness, stay with me and you'll see more crazy things." He looked around. "So... where should I stay?"

There was a shimmer of light, and a holographic blue ball on a pedestal appeared above the table. "There are a multitude of rooms to choose from, Mister Odin," a synthesized female voice said.

The Warlock blinked blinked. "Just Odin will do. And thank you, miss..."

"EDI," the ball said, flashing in time with the words. "I am the ship's AI."

"EDI?" Odin asked.

"It stands for Enhanced Defense Intelligence," the AI explained. "During ship-to-ship combat, I manage the Normandy's electronic warfare suite."

Odin blinked. "A warmind?" he whispered to himself. "No, not a warmind. She doesn't have the reach. No WARSATS after all. A proto-warmind then. Fascinating."

The orb shimmered. "What is a warmind?"

Odin opened his mouth, then paused. "It would take too much time to explain at the moment," he said. "I'd love to talk the details of them with you later, but I'll have my Ghost forward the basics now."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Ghost?"

Odin glanced over his shoulder, and the small spark of the Traveler shimmered into existence.

The two woman in the room took a step back from surprise. "What is that?" Miranda asked.

"He's a Ghost," Odin said.

She creased her eyebrows. "Is it a VI?"

The Ghost narrowed his eye. "I'm a Ghost."

"Is it an AI?" Miranda asked.

"He's/I'm a Ghost," both Odin and his companion said at the same time.

"Enough," Shepard said. "We can talk about this later. For now, we should let Odin settle in. Let him get used to the ship."

Odin smiled slightly. "Thanks for that Shepard."

She shook her head. "Any time. Where will you be staying for now?"

"Down with my ship," the Warlock said. "I'll be there if you need me."

(0)(0)(0)

"What's the damage like?"

"Armor's mostly intact. Just some carbon scorching. I think we overestimated what the weaponry of this universe could do. They rely on those kinetic barriers too much."

"No kidding. They're too unreliable, and the armor here is awful. It takes, what? A burst with a pulse rifle to get through it?"

"You do realize that the armor here isn't Light enhanced?"

"Semantics. Hand me the belt sander. This stuff is a pain to get off."

There was a shimmer in the air above Odin's hand, and a small device fell into it. He pressed a button on it, and the sandpaper belt began to spin rapidly. His helmet appeared around his head, and he pressed the sander against the blackened hull.

At the moment, he hung directly below his ship, suspended by a combination of his own powers and the Aspect's tractor field. The ship itself was attached to the Normandy's hanger bay ceiling. Several of the deckhands that usually worked in said hanger were staring up at the Warlock, some of them with their jaws hanging open. Understandable, since it appeared that Odin was casually floating in the air.

He sighed as he worked. The Aspect didn't really need to be polished like this, but it got... uppity if Odin neglected it. Given that it was created out of Vex technology, he was less than comfortable with it being unhappy with himself. He had incorporated enough of the aliens' technology into his armor. He didn't need to be taken over by his own ship.

As he ground away the scorching on his ship, his mind wandered. He had looked up Shepard in the few hours since he had arrived on the Normandy. She had an impressive record for a mortal. Her combat ability could rival a few Guardians, and from what he had read of her companions, her natural charisma and leadership ability rivaled Amaris.

Odin sighed again. Amaris and Shepard. They were oddly similar. More than just looks, their personality, abilities, and fighting style were similar as well. Amaris had always favored Void Light over Arc Light, and had managed to weaponize it in ways that had astounded even Odin.

Likewise, Shepard was a biotic, and a powerful one. She was what this universe called a Vanguard, a biotic soldier who used their abilities to charge directly into enemy lines, causing confusion and chaos. From what Odin had seen, Shepard favored shotguns and heavy pistols, appropriate considering the range that she usually fought at.

"Odin! You in here?"

The Guardian glanced down to see Shepard looking around the hanger. "Up here!" he shouted down to her.

Shepard glanced up, then blinked. She opened her mouth to say something, then stopped as Odin lessened his nullification on gravity and gently floated down to her.

He landed lightly and dissolved his helmet into data, walking up to her. "What's up?" he asked.

Shepard blinked again. "You apparently," she said, earning an amused snort from Odin. "Just wanted to talk, see how you're settling in."

Odin looked around the hanger. "This ship is... interesting," he admitted. "I can't say I'm used to being in something this large for an extended period of time. I'm more used to that-" He pointed over his shoulder at the Aspect of Glass. "Or something like a space station. A small frigate like this is more strange."

Shepard furrowed her eyebrows. "This is a cruiser."

Odin paused. "Really?" he asked. "Back home this size of ship would be classified as a light frigate."

"Back in your universe, you mean?" Shepard asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

Odin sighed. "You don't believe me either, do you?"

"You have to admit," Shepard said, "It's a hard story to believe."

Odin paused. "Maybe. Then again, I'm used to fighting enemies that routinely travel through time and space."

Shepard blinked. "Wait, what do you mean traveling through time?"

"They're called the Vex," Odin explained. He paused, then looked at his Ghost, who then projected a hologram of a Goblin wielding a slap rifle. "They're a hivemind race which has managed to develop the technology to travel through time. There's a centralized mind, and each individual Vex is more like a finger or limb than an actual singular being."

Shepard nodded. "They sound like the Geth."

Odin paused, thinking for a bit. "Those are AIs that the... what're they called... Quarians made, right?"

Shepard nodded. "They ended up rebelling and forcing the Quarians off Rannoch."

Odin snorted. "Rebelling my ass."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

Odin gave her a dry look. "Shepard, I researched what happened. The Geth unit achieved a base level of sapience and asked its creators an existential question. In return, the creators tried to eradicate its entire race. It wasn't a war of _aggression,_ it was a war of _survival._ "

Shepard pursed her lips, but didn't say anything.

"Seriously," Odin said, continuing. "what is with this universe and their fear of Synthetic organisms?"

Shepard cocked her head. "You have synthetics in your home?"

Odin nodded. "All over the place. Some of my best friends are Exos."

"Is that a type of Synthetic?"

"Yeah," Odin said. "We're not sure where they came from. My best guess is that they're either uploaded or copied intelligences, or they're highly advanced AIs that came about from self-evolving programs." He shrugged. "Either way, we know that they have souls, so it doesn't really matter to me."

Shepard cocked her head. "...Souls? You mean you can measure that?"

Odin raised his hand and a swirling ball of Light appeared above it. "A Guardian's power comes from our soul, our Light. Most Guardians can sense Light, with Warlocks such as I having better senses than other Guardians." He looked at her. "There are numerous Exo Guardians. To be a Guardian, one must have a soul. Therefore, Exos have souls."

Shepard thought for a moment. "That makes sense... I guess." She looked back at him. "Can you tell me more about Guardians?"

Odin grinned. "Of course! What would you like to know?"

"What exactly is a Guardian?" Shepard asked. "How does one become one? Could someone like me become one?"

Odin chuckled. "Well, the first is something that's pretty debated back home. To most of us, however, the answer is simple." He sighed, smiling and looking up. "To be a Guardian means two things. The first is to fight against the encroaching Darkness and defeat it in whatever form it takes. The second is to defend humanity against anything that may threaten it. Our name is more than just a title, it is a duty."

"As for becoming one," Odin continued, "A person requires two things: potential to become skilled and the utilization of Light-" he reached out and gently pushed down his Ghost's front, earning an annoyed glare from his companion. "and one of these. A Ghost, which channels and focuses Light, allowing for a Guardian to utilize it."

"As for you becoming a Guardian, that's impossible." He fixed her with a look. "In order to become a Guardian, one requires a Ghost. Considering that the only Ghost in the universe is mine, if you want to become one..."

Shepard held up her hands. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Odin visibly relaxed. "No problem. I'm just a little... protective of my Ghost. He brought me back after all."

"From death, I'm guessing?" Shepard asked.

"Yep," he said. He looked at his Ghost. "How long ago was that? Half a millennium?"

Shepard blinked. "Half a millennium... Wait, how old _are_ you?!"

Odin opened his mouth, paused, then closed it.

"You forgot again, didn't you?" his Ghost asked him with a dry look.

"Quiet!" Odin said, giving a not so serious glare to his companion. "You know how busy I am with stuff."

The Ghost rolled his eye. "Oh yes, you're _so_ busy." He looked at Shepard. "He's 971 by the way."

Shepard blinked. "Nine hundred and... You're older than some Asari Matriarchs!?"

Odin nodded. "Yep. Guardians revive in their prime and don't age after that. There are some Guardians which are almost twice as old as I am." He thought for a moment. "I'm one of the older Guardians though. Most aren't over three centuries."

Shepard took a half step away and cocked her head. "That must be... convenient?"

Odin shrugged. "You kinda forget what Light does to you after the first hundred years. Don't need to eat, drink, breathe..." He gave an ironic chuckle. "Technically, us Guardians are undead."

Shepard narrowed her eyebrows. "That's rather morbid."

"It's true," Odin said. "We can't really be considered human anymore. We may be the children of Humanity, reborn to defend it in its darkest days, but in the end we're not truly part of it."

There was no other way of looking at it. Normal humans didn't come back from the dead again and again and continue to fight. Normal humans didn't face down legions of aliens single-handed and come out victorious. Normal humans didn't wield reality shattering powers that casually broke the laws of physics. Normal humans didn't kill gods.

No matter how much other Guardians would protest, no matter how much Odin wanted it, Guardians could not be considered part of Humanity.

They were separate. A cousin, perhaps, or a sibling species. But not part of it. It was simply a fact.

He wasn't human anymore.

"I wouldn't say that."

Odin looked at Shepard and raised an eyebrow. "How do you mean?"

"Being a human isn't just about what you are," she said. "It's about _who_ you are. Just because you're physically different from me doesn't mean you're a different species. So long as you believe that you're human, you are."

Odin blinked, then smiled slightly. "I appreciate the sentiment, but I don't mind not being human. I wouldn't trade being a Guardian for anything. I threw away my humanity to defend mankind. That's an exchange I'd always be willing to make."

Shepard frowned slightly. "Still..."

Odin raised his hands. "Shepard. Really. It's fine. I've been alive for longer than what is likely everyone else on this ship combined. I'm used to being a Guardian."

She sighed. "Alright, if you say so." She glanced around the hanger. "I should go," she said.

Odin nodded. "I'll see you around."

As she walked away, Odin looked at his Ghost briefly before turning to his ship. "Why do I feel like I'm going to be hearing that phrase a lot?" he muttered to himself.

(0)(0)(0)

Odin was bored.

He had finished cleaning the Aspect two hours ago, and had spent the time since then laying on the top of his ship, browsing this... extranet. It had been interesting initially, with so much information about this universe at his fingertips, but eventually it had just gotten dull.

Once he had read all the interesting public information, he had his Ghost hack into some hidden files, finding things like classified government projects, secret organizations, and offplanet bank accounts.

On a related note, Odin now had such a bank account with several million credits in it. Having a personal Ghost can be handy at times, but vast sums of money never hurt either.

But Odin had gotten bored of reading all that too eventually. After all, one can only read so much about how many mistresses the Turian Primarch has, or how many bottles of alcohol the Asari Councilor goes through per week, or how many dirty backroom deals the Salarian Dalatrass has done in the last month, even if it was a lot.

He sighed as he dismissed the neural HUD and stared up at the ceiling. What to do... He had checked over his guns. All the experiments he had were either compiling data or still in the theory stage. He didn't really feel like meditating at the moment...

Well, there was one thing he could do. With a smooth movement he rolled off his ship and gently floated the six meters down to the bottom of the hanger. He hadn't explored the Normandy yet, and it seemed like a smart idea, given that he was probably going to be living in it for an undetermined amount of time in the future.

Ignoring the stares from the crewmembers working in the hanger, Odin walked to the elevator, entered it, then paused. He had barely seen the layout of the ship since he had arrived, so he was completely blind as to where to go. With a shrug, he decided to just press a random button and go with it.

The elevator hummed for a few seconds, before the doors opened, revealing the main chamber of the ship. Odin remembered briefly seeing this place when he went to the briefing room, but hadn't actually explored it. He stepped outside the elevator and looked around, his gaze eventually landing on a woman with red hair who was walking towards him.

"Hi," she said in a cheerful voice, holding out a hand. "You're Mr. Odin, right? I'm Kelly Chambers, the ship's Yeoman."

The Warlock returned her smile and shook her hand. "Nice to meet you, Miss Chambers, and just Odin is fine."

"Only if you promise to call me Kelly," the woman said.

"Deal," Odin said with a chuckle. The woman had an infectiously happy personality. There were more than a few Guardians at the Tower who were like that, and he had made friends with several of them.

"I also serve as the ship's psychologist," Kelly said. "I was wondering if I could set up a session where I could talk to you."

Odin nodded. "Psychology, eh? I spent a few decades studying that. Wasn't for me though."

Kelly blinked. "Um... decades?"

Odin waved her off. "Long story. I'll be more than happy to share it with you when we talk."

Her smile returned. "Ah, right!" Her omni-tool appeared and she tapped it a few times. "I can set an appointment for... does two days from today at three in the afternoon work?"

Odin nodded. "Sure, I don't really have any duties aside from fighting that I can think of, and my studies can be done at any time."

"Perfect!" Kelly said, tapping a few more keys into her omni-tool. "I'll see you then."

Odin smiled as she walked away. Her personality was a breath of fresh air compared to most of the crew of the Normandy. For the most part, the looks that had been sent Odin's way had been ones of confusion or unbelieving wonder. Although he got a bit of a thrill at the latter, those looks weren't exactly friendly.

Odin was used to being feared, and not just by minions of the Darkness. Once when he was a young Guardian, he had walked the streets of the City in his Warlock garbs. He had been expecting the citizens to be happy to see him, with looks of admiration and respect.

Instead, almost all the looks he had gotten were those of fear. At the time he had been shocked and confused, and it wasn't until much later, after a lecture by Amaris, that he understood.

Guardians were undead. Perhaps they weren't moaning and shambling zombies or cackling skeletons, but they weren't truly alive in the same sense as baseline humans were. Much of the City wasn't comfortable with that fact, to the point where some of the citizens saw the Guardians as little better than the aliens they faced.

On the other hand, Kelly's warm and bubbly attitude had been a wonderful break from the fearful and odd stares. He had let himself relax slightly in her presence, not as much as he would around his fellow brother and sister Guardians, but still more than most. Certainly more than any time on Omega with all the aliens.

Odin began to stroll around the CIC, and his gaze drifted towards the large holographic projection of the galaxy. As far as he could tell, it was a fairly accurate representation. Focusing on it, he scanned the hologram, matching it up with the galactic map in his memory. The galactic core was there, so the Orion-Cygnus arm must be there and... yes, there was the Sol System. The Horsehead Nebula must be there then. The Carina Nebula should be over there, and the Orion Nebula should be there. Then where was the Normandy...

Odin stopped.

He had found his location, the large blinking circle in the galaxy map. It wasn't where he had expected, but he had found it nonetheless. He knew it wasn't in the Sol System, but he had thought it would be nearby, in the same arm at the very least.

Omega. That should have been his first clue. He had thought that it was just a random name, perhaps one that was given ironically due to the station's reputation. He hadn't expected it to be actually located in the Omega Nebula. Who does that? Naming a space station after the nebula it's in?

It didn't matter now. What did is that Odin was, at the moment, across the galaxy from the Cradle of Humanity.

He had never been outside the Sol System, let alone on the opposite side of the galaxy. The inner planets of the Sol System seemed so large when he explored it as a young Guardian. Even now, with Odin being an experienced Guardian, he still found places in the inner systems which were filled with the unknown.

If just those areas seemed so large to Odin, what was it like to have an entire galaxy filled with those places? Billions of planets, with hundreds, if not thousands filled with living beings and unexplored places?

A tenseness settled into Odin's shoulders, and he clenched his hands. He felt... small. Alone. He had only been in this galaxy for little more than a week, barely any time compared to his other adventures. He had spent years exploring Mars after he broke through the exclusion zone, and who knows how long he was in the Vault of Glass, but he had never been this _far_ from home. From the City and the Tower.

He... he missed home. He missed Cayde-6 and his lackadaisy attitude. He missed Zavala and his intense focus. He missed Ikora and her strange humour. He missed Shaxx and his enthusiasm about the Crucible. He missed Amaris and her no-nonsense stares. He missed Reisen and his awful jokes. He missed Aithne and her desire to punch anything and everything. Darkness, he even missed the Speaker, stuffed up blowhard as he was.

He missed his home.

He felt lost in this galaxy. The aliens here weren't hostile. There were humans, but they weren't _his_ humans. There was no Darkness to fight. This galaxy wasn't filled with Light, but it didn't need to be. There was no need for a Guardian.

There was no need for him.

He exhaled roughly and leaned on the bar surrounding the galaxy map. What was he doing? Following a normal human? Fighting an unknown foe? He had read up on these 'Reapers,' both the official Council dismissal and the report that Cerberus had made.

Sentient, kilometer long warships. Unless he got _really_ inventive or used some of the Aspect of Glass' more esoteric features, he couldn't fight directly against them. Perhaps he could board them, but would he be given the chance? Could he do that against hundreds, or thousands of them?

He didn't know what to do.

Something grasped his shoulder, and Odin whirled, summoning his Light and reaching for his gun to-

"Woah!" Garrus shouted, backing away with his hands raised.

Odin paused, then relaxed. "Sorry, I was pretty deep in thought. You surprised me."

Garrus blinked. "I called your name about three times."

Odin sighed. "I was _very_ deep in thought."

"Right..." Garrus said slowly. "Well, come on. Shepard wants us in the comms room."

Odin blinked. "What for?"

Garrus simply shrugged and began to walk.

Odin fell in step beside the Turian. As they walked to the comms room, they passed through what appeared to be a laboratory, with the Salarian that the Warlock had seen yesterday.

As far as Odin could tell, the lab appeared to be well furnished. He wasn't as familiar with the technology of this galaxy as he was with his home. This place seemed to be in love with the white, smooth styles that could be found practically everywhere. Even on Omega, dirty as the station was, it could be found if you looked for it.

Odin still preferred practicality over style, but even he could admit that the look was appropriate for the laboratory. It gave the room a clean, sterile impression, one that emphasized that this was a place of science and research.

He paused as something tickled the back of his mind, stimulating his extra senses. It was a familiar feeling... unpleasant, but one Odin knew he had felt before. He couldn't quite place where he had felt it, as though it was a word that was on the tip of his tongue, or a memory that kept slipping his mind. Where...

"Hey," Garrus said. "Odin. Come on."

Odin blinked, clearing his mind of the thought. "Yeah, sorry," he said, walking with Garrus into the comms room.

The Turian paused as he saw that the room was empty. "Huh," he said. "That's odd..."

"Looks like she's late," Odin said, looking around.

"Yeah," Garrus said slowly. "Shepard isn't like that. She's usually pretty serious about being on time."

Odin just shrugged and sat on the railing, letting his mind wander. From the looks of things, he and Garrus were the only ones asked to come here. If he was right, this was a mission, likely one with lots of gunfire and killing. Including Shepard, that was a fireteam of three.

A three man fireteam eh? How nostalgic...

"Thanks," Garrus blurted out.

Odin blinked and looked at him. "For what?"

"For my team," Garrus said. "For saving them. If you hadn't been there, they probably wouldn't have survived."

Odin shrugged. "I was there, so I thought that I might as well have saved them." He chuckled. "Thinking about it, it's a bit of mixed luck. Good luck I was there and bad luck that the mercs finally found your base."

Garrus let his gaze drift downward. "It wasn't luck. We were sold out."

Odin raised an eyebrow. "By who?"

"...You remember how many of my team were at the building when it was attacked?"

Odin nodded. "Yeah, there was ten of them."

"Well," Garrus began. "There was another. A Turian by the name of Sidonis." He hung his head. "He betrayed us."

Odin blinked. "How do you know?"

"Right before the attack he called me out to a secluded area," Garrus explained. "I was attacked by Mercs there. I managed to escape and head back to the building and... well, you know the rest."

Odin thought for a moment. "How do you know the message was from him?"

"He used a secret channel. There's no way that a mercenary would be able to find out about it," Garrus explained. "Besides, I checked up on him after we got back on the Normandy. He had cleared out his accounts and left Omega just before the attack. He betrayed us, no doubt about it."

Odin nodded slowly. "So... what do you intend to do?"

Garrus sighed. "I... I don't know. I'm going to find him, and when I do I... I just want to know why he did it. Why did he betray us? Why did he try to destroy everything we had worked towards?"

"Maybe he was threatened or something similar? Not being given a choice and such."

"That's possible," Garrus muttered. "If so, I'll probably let him go. Our hideout was compromised, but no one died. In the end no one was hurt."

"And if he was bribed?" Odin asked.

Garrus's gaze turned fierce. "Then I'm going to put a bullet in his brain."

Odin nodded. He approved. Traitors who betrayed their comrades for power or greed deserved no mercy. Just look at Dredgen Yor. The bastard gave into the Darkness because of his lust for power. He was a stain on the honor of the Guardians, one that Odin was more than happy to be rid of.

Odin and Garrus looked over as the door to the comms room opened. In walked Shepard and Miranda, the former in armor and the latter carrying a data pad. As Miranda passed by Odin, she gave him a scowl.

Odin gave her a happy smile. Her scowl deepened.

"Listen up!" Shepard barked. "Our target is a Krogan Warlord by the name of Okeer. He's currently located on the planet of Korlus, specifically within a Blue Suns camp. Our job is to get in, extract him, and get out."

Odin frowned. He hated VIP missions. It was so annoying to have to stay back and protect them, especially since most of the time they were squishy humans. That was one of the reasons why he never got involved with the Pilgrim Guard like some of his brothers and sisters had. He preferred to bring the fight to the Darkness. Attack instead of defend.

"So, what's special about Okeer?" Odin asked.

Shepard glanced at Miranda, who then tapped on the datapad. The image of an old Krogan with a dark crest appeared above the table. "We believe Okeer to have dealings with the Collectors," Shepard explained. "In addition, he has over a millenia of combat and strategic experience. He'd be invaluable to our mission." She looked at Garrus. "I'd rather have Wrex, but..."

Garrus nodded in understanding. "Any idea why he's with the Blue Suns?"

Shepard took a breath. "Our best guess is that he's trying to cure the Genophage."

Garrus' eyes widened. "Just like Saren..." he whispered. "That's... not good."

"No, it isn't," Shepard said. "But we need his help."

Garrus sighed. "What's that human phrase? The least of two bad things?"

"The lesser of two evils," Odin said. He was more than familiar with the phrase.

"Exactly," Shepard said.

"What's his relationship with the Blue Suns?" Garrus asked. "Is he there as a partner or as a hostage?"

"Unknown," Shepard said. "If it's the latter, he'll be happy to see us. If it's the former, well... we may need to get inventive."

Garrus cringed. "Knowing you, that means lots of explosions..."

Shepard glared at Garrus. "I'm not _that_ bad."

"Shepard, was there any mission we went on when we were hunting Saren that _didn't_ involve a large explosion?"

Shepard opened her mouth. Then closed it. "Well... there was Feros. We didn't blow up the Thorian. Just dropped it down that hole."

Garrus gave her a dry look. "You blew up that Geth ship."

"...Oh yeah," Shepard said weakly.

Odin shook his head. Okay, now he was sure. Shepard was an alternate universe version of his mentor.

This place just kept getting more and more weird.

* * *

 **AN:** Welcome back to Son of Light! In this chapter, we get dialogue, exposition, and some insight into Odin's character.

I'm somewhat unsatisfied with this chapter. It went through numerous changes when I was writing it and even now it feels pretty weak. I'd rather not get it out too late though, so here it is.

In other news, Taken King is out and holy shit is it awesome. This is pretty much how Destiny was supposed to be in my mind, with all the hidden stuff. It's not without its flaws (the recent Iron Banner for example), but otherwise it's been awesome.

six samurai of dragon order: Odin will be modifying some of his Void powers based on the techniques of biotics in the MEverse. For example, he's currently trying to figure out how to copy a biotic charge.

edboy4926: The Taken King will not be appearing in this story. It's entirely Destiny year 1 material. _**Edit:**_ The exception to this is the stormcaller subclass. That, however, will come in much later in the fic.

Eipok: You are entirely correct. That was my mistake, and the corrections have been made. For some reason, I had the weird idea that the definitions of "sapient" and "sentient" were switched.

 **Important Note:** I've been getting a few questions about who I'm going to ship Odin with. At the moment, I don't really have any plans, so I'm going to leave it up to you guys. I'm going to be making a poll on my profile page with a few options.

In other news, this fic broke 100 reviews yesterday! Thank you all for the support and love.

I'll see you next chapter!


	7. For the Strength of the Pack is the Wolf

_Odin? Yeah, I've heard of him. Crazy motherfucker. Most of us stay on Earth or the moon, if any of us go at all with all the Hive infesting it. Some of us might go to Venus, but with the Vex there... well, it's not exactly a paradise. Don't even get me started on Mars. The Cabal and their Exclusion Zone make sure that only the best of Hunters go there, and even then they don't stay for very long._

 _But Odin? That guy's a Warlock, not a Hunter. They're supposed to be bookworms, not scouts and explorers. But there he goes, off to Venus and Mars, staying for years or decades at a time. I once heard he even went to the Reef. I called bullshit on that story; no Guardian goes to the Reef._

 _But anyways, off he goes to Mars, breaking the Cabal's Exclusion Zone and giving us a foothold. Next thing you know, he's shutting down Vex invasions, reclaiming the Dust Palace, and taking down Valus Ta'aurc with that Fireteam of his._

 _And is this enough for him!? No, he finds a way into the Traveler damned Black Garden! No one thought he'd get back from that one, I'll tell you that. Did you know we actually had a betting pool for that? I bet against him, just like most of us did. Heck, even Cayde-6 did. Put in a thousand glimmer._

 _Then that motherfucker walks into the Tower with Mars dust on his boots and a shard of the Black Garden's Heart in his hand! He actually managed to fucking do it! And you know what's the worst part?!_

 _That asshole Reisen put all the glimmer he had on Odin coming back. Fucking cleaned us out._

 _But I think I know why Odin can do all that. I've got an idea on his little secret. See, for most of us, fighting against the Darkness is a job. It's our duty as Guardians. Some of us do it for fun. Others do it for hope of a better future._

 _But Odin? He_ _ **hates**_ _the Darkness. Most of us don't remember our life before we were Guardians. Wish more of us did. If some of the eggheads remembered how to make Golden Age technology, there may be more than one city left on Earth._

 _Odin's odd like that. He remembers. He was right at the beginning of the Golden Age, so he doesn't remember how to work much tech, but he remembers what it was like. Did you know he remembers when they first found the Traveler? He was just a kid, but if you listen to him talk (and does he talk), he'll go on and on about how amazing it was._

 _So he remembers what we had, and so he remembers what we lost. And he hates the Darkness with a passion because of that. I've seen him rip a Fallen Captain apart with his bare hands, turn a Hive Knight into ash with his mind, cut a Vex Minotaur into pieces with nothing but that knife of his, and breach the suit of a Cabal just to watch it suffocate._

 _Talk to him while he's not fighting and he's pretty much normal. He's kinda a nerd and will talk your ear off about Light mechanics and shit like that, but he's normal._

 _But when he's on the battlefield and facing the Darkness? He turns into someone so much different. Someone with so much hate and spite that you could drown a galaxy in it._

-Anonymous comment on Warlock Odin

(0)(0)(0)

Odin was nervous.

At the moment, he stood in the main cabin of the Normandy's shuttle, his hand gripping one of the handholds on the ceiling. Even with the small ship's inertial dampeners, it rattled and shook as it flew down through the planet's atmosphere.

It was too open, too lightly armored. Odin was a powerful Guardian, and could defeat almost any enemy on foot, but on this shuttle he was powerless. A single piece of machinery malfunctioning, a single missile, a single thing gone wrong and there was a good chance of Odin never coming back.

He wished he could have flown the Aspect down, with its comfortable tight spaces and its heavily armored frame. Shepard had shot that idea down, saying something about how he was part of a team.

Odin scowled. Teamwork. He had never really been good at it. He had been part of a fireteam back in his home universe, but not very often. He had only really joined them when they were taking down hardened, important targets. Sepiks Prime, or Valus Ta'aurc for example. Most of the time he had been by himself, going out into the dark unknown.

When he had slain the Kell of the House of Winter he had been alone. When he had fought a Gate Lord he had been alone. When he had plunged into the Black Garden and ripped out its cursed, diseased heart he had been alone.

He had heard the poem about the wolf pack, certainly. Amaris had literally beaten it into his head. Despite that, he just wasn't a team player. During the strikes where he had been part of a fireteam, the teamwork that happened was more along the lines of the other Guardians adapting to Odin's strategies rather than Odin working along with them.

In addition, they had been Guardians. They knew each other's powers and how to synergize with them. Their Lights were bright and had glowed even more radiant together. Compared to that, the compatibility with him that normal mortals like Shepard and Garrus had was nearly nonexistent.

Odin sighed and gave the mental equivalent of a shrug. Well, he would do what he normally did. The two mortals probably wouldn't be able to keep up, but oh well. He supposed they wouldn't be too mad if he just killed everything himself. After all, there shouldn't be a problem so long as the enemy died and they won.

"Odin," Shepard said, breaking the Warlock out of his thoughts. "What's your specialization?"

The Guardian blinked. "Huh?"

"In combat," Shepard said. "What are you best at?"

Odin thought for a moment. "Well, Guardians are expected to fulfill just about any combat roll. I'm personally good at medium to long ranges." Not that it mattered after all. He'd be equally good at killing all the enemies at any range.

He lifted a hand and swirling ball of Void Light filled it. "Not to toot my own horn, but I'm also fairly good at shock-and-awe," he said with a chuckle.

"No kidding," Garrus snorted. "How many times did you clear the bridge with that huge biotic blast of yours?"

"Nova Bomb," Odin corrected. "And it was about half a dozen times?"

"Seven," Odin's Ghost said, appearing above his shoulder.

Shepard looked at the small machine. "What about you? What can you do?"

The Ghost looked at her. "Most of the time I regulate Odin's Light, but I _am_ a supercomputer," he bragged. "I spoke with your ship's AI before this, and I'm a few times more powerful than her. I should be able to mess with enemy comms or hack other electronics."

Shepard blinked. "A few times... how?! You're the size of a baseball!"

"A golfball actually," Odin corrected. "That outside part is just a shell. A Ghost's real body is in that."

The Ghost gave Odin an annoyed look before turning back to Shepard. "I'm created from a being so powerful that some races worshiped it as a god. It's fair to say that I'm a bit more advanced than anything your galaxy has."

Shepard paused. "Well... whatever works," she muttered.

"Thirty seconds!" came a shout from the cockpit.

Odin glanced towards the voice, then looked at his Ghost. It nodded, having been with the Guardian long enough to know what he was thinking. Odin focused on his digital armory and began to bring guns out of it.

First was his second greatest partner, Hawkmoon. The gleaming silver handcannon appeared in his hand, and Odin attached it to the back of his hip. It was an amazing weapon, but the high recoil and fat, stubby rounds ensured that it was a weapon designed for closer ranges. Since he didn't know the ranges he'd be fighting at, he figured that it was best to keep it in reserve.

Next was his Icebreaker. The sniper rifle was a reliable weapon, and he preferred to fight at longer ranges when he could. He examined it for a moment, ensuring that it was clean and free of scratches or other damages. After a few moments, Odin nodded, satisfied, and placed it on his back. He mentally triggered the magnetic clamps that were weaved into the cloth of his robes, and the sniper rifle stuck there.

Finally was Bad Juju, the pulse rifle touching his mind, eager for combat. Odin sent it an order of patience, promising bloodshed soon, but only if it obeyed his commands. It grumbled, but relented. He cradled it in his hands, looking it over. The malevolent green glow that emanated from it casted a baleful light over the cabin, and the smoke that drifted up from its barrel tinged the air with an acrid scent of ozone.

With a focus of his mind, he placed a few weapons into a quick retrieval area. Invective and numerous heavy weapons were included among these. Odin's logic for this was that it was possible that he'd fight in a wide variety of terrains and situations here, so it was better to have them and not need them, rather than need them and not have them.

Odin gave a final checkover of his weapons, then nodded and cocked Bad Juju, inserting some glimmer into the micro-forge inside the gun, ready to be altered into bullets and sent into his enemies.

"Five seconds!" came a shout from the cockpit.

Shepard stood, drawing her shotgun and moving over to the door. Garrus was right behind her with his assault rifle out. Finally was Odin, moving his pulse rifle into a firing position.

There was a bump as the shuttle touched down, and the doors slid open. The three of them hopped out, surveying the area and ensuring that no enemies were nearby. Seeing as it was clear, Shepard and Garrus relaxed a little.

Odin didn't. Centuries of combat experience had drilled into him that an attack could and would come at the most unexpected time.

The Warlock took a brief moment to look around. The nearby terrain reminded him of the Cosmodrome, with the charred and decaying wrecks. There seemed to be some buildings, but Odin couldn't tell if they were built from the scrap or simply created from the old husks of ships.

He couldn't smell the air through the filters of his helmet, but he could feel it with his robes' haptic sensors. It was hot and muggy, filled with smog so thick it felt like Odin could cut through it. The gravity was heavier than what Odin was used to, a feeling that was unusual for him, but not one he couldn't overcome.

Fires burned among the scrap, and the dirt was littered with trash and shards of metal. Large hunks of scrap stuck out of the ground, making excellent improvised cover. Shepard and Garrus moved to one of these with masterful precision, revealing the amount of combat experience that both of them had gained together.

A sharp, female voice rang out through the air, coming from a loudspeaker in the distance. " **There is only one measure of success: kill or be killed! Perfection is your goal.** "

Odin scowled. "She doesn't have half the presence or charisma Shaxx had," he said.

"He got really enthusiastic about Crucible matches, didn't he?" his Ghost responded.

Odin nodded and began to move up with Shepard and Garrus. The path, pockmarked with chunks of metal, winded upward towards what appeared to be an old husk of a ship. From what Odin could see, it had been gutted, the insides scavenged and the outsides left to rust.

"That's their base?" he asked.

Shepard nodded. "That's what the intel says." She glanced forward. "Movement ahead."

Garrus raised his rifle, peering through the scope. "It's the Blue Suns alright, four of them. Nothing special, just looks like a minor guard post."

Shepard hefted her shotgun. "Right, we'll do this quick and by the books. Garrus, set up a line of sight on one of them with your sniper rifle and be ready to fire when I charge. Odin- **Odin!** "

As soon as Garrus had finished his small report of the enemies, Odin had dashed forward, down the path and towards the Blue Suns. As he neared them, he hopped on one of the chunks of metal, and then leapt and glided forward, a ball of Solar Light beginning to form in his hand.

Within the ball, several atoms began to fuse together, held together by a semi-stable magnetic field created by the Warlock. An incredible heat formed the core of the ball, only kept in check by Odin's will.

Within half a second the ball was completely formed and Odin hurled it towards one of the Blue Suns. Said human had just turned to notice the Warlock and was in the midst of yelling out a warning when the ball impacted on him.

The ball sunk into his armor, the magnetic field simultaneously locking itself to him and beginning to collapse due to this new change. There was a high pitched wind as the magnetic field became unstable. The unfortunate Blue Sun that it had stuck to barely had time to look down and gape before it exploded, incinerating his body instantly. His nearby companion was less lucky as the superheated plasma scorched the side of his body, causing much of the left side of him to become so much cinder and charred flesh.

Odin laughed loudly at the grisly sight. Still in the air, he shifted the aim of Bad Juju onto the third Blue Sun and squeezed the trigger. Three rounds spat out of the cursed gun and shot towards the enemy. They weren't Odin's usual tight grouping, but this was excusable given his current flight. Nevertheless, the three rounds all hit the Blue Sun, the first entering its lower gut and shredding its intestines, the second hitting it in the left side of its chest and punching a large hole in its lung, and the final hit it in the throat and ripping right through its jugular.

Odin landed and began to aim towards the fourth and final enemy when a new gunshot rang out. He turned to see Shepard, holding a smoking pistol aimed at the fourth mercenary with a scowl on her face. Odin raised an eyebrow. "Nice shot."

She advanced on him. "The hell Odin?"

The Warlock blinked. "What?"

"You just rushed ahead!" Shepard growled, waving her hands. "What if there had been more reinforcements behind them? Or they had some heavy weapons? You could have been ambushed and taken out!"

Odin looked at her and paused. "...So?"

Shepard opened her mouth, paused, and closed it again. She glared at him. "Just because you can come back to life doesn't mean you get to be reckless!"

Odin slowly nodded. "Yes it does."

Shepard ground her teeth and growled. "You need to slow down."

"Why?" Odin asked, shrugging. "I mean, I took the enemy out."

"Because we need to work as a group," she said. "Because although you may be able to come back to life, Garrus and I can't. So we need to make sure that we all do our best in combat."

Odin paused, considering her words. She actually did have a point. Still, he couldn't help but frown underneath his helmet. He hadn't actually fought with normal mortals before; the closest comparison he could remember was when he was a normal human and took a martial arts class.

He sighed. "And here I thought I was only going to have to protect one VIP," he muttered.

Shepard narrowed her eyebrows. "Huh?"

Odin waved her off. "Nothing. Fine. Come on, let's get moving."

Shepard nodded, and they began to move further down the path. As the reached the top of the small hill where the guard station was, they noticed that one of the Blue Suns was still alive. Bleeding, on the ground, and clutching his side, but alive nevertheless.

Odin grunted. "I take back what I said earlier. You missed him."

The mercenary began to stagger to his feet. "Shit. Shit! It won't stop bleeding... I'm gonna... son of a bitch!"

Odin raised an eyebrow at the display. "You missed his vitals Shepard. He'd be fine without any medical help."

Shepard looked at him. "He doesn't need to know that."

"I knew it wasn't berserkers," the Blue Sun spat out. "Not at range. You're mercs. Or Alliance. I'm not... I'm not telling you anything."

Shepard glanced down at the wound. "That looks pretty bad. Shot low in the gut, the wound will go septic pretty quickly. You won't bleed out, but the infection will definitely get you. Nasty way to die." She held up a hand and her omni-tool flared to life. "I might be able to help with that, but only if you do a few favors for me."

The merc's face went pale. "I-I just... I don't know anything," he stammered out. "I just shoot the overflow from the labs. The old Krogan up there, he's really been cleaning house lately."

He glanced up towards the central structure. "Jedore hired him to make her an army, but the Krogan he creates are insane, so we use them for live ammo training." His eyes began to tear up. "It's bullshit! I don't want to die like this!"

Just then, a new voice came over the radio. "Outpost Four? Jedore wants us to move. We need coordinates on that Krogan pack."

Shepard narrowed her eyes. "I want your friends gone," she growled.

The mercenary looked at her and thought for a few moments, biting his lip. "Uh... patrol?" he said into his radio. "The last group... dispersed. Lost sight five minutes ago."

An angry voice came through the radio. "Dispersed? Jedore will be pissed. She wanted a show."

"You asked for a report, you got it." the merc growled, more than a little desperation leaking into his voice. "Dispersed."

The voice sighed. "Understood. Returning to the labs."

The man looked at Shepard, his eyes flickering to the lit up omni-tool on her hand. "T-there? See? I'm helping. So please..."

Shepard paused for a few seconds before she smirked and turned the omni-tool off. "If you start limping now, you might find a nice, shady spot to die."

The merc's eyes widened and began to look around, stopping as his gaze landed on a nearby assault rifle. He hesitated, considering the action. Odin cocked Bad Juju, causing the Blue Sun's gaze to snap to him. The Warlock gestured with his head, and the merc bit his lip for a few moments before swearing and limping off.

Odin looked at Shepard. "That was cruel and unnecessary. I love it."

She chuckled and drew her shotgun. "I thought so. Come on, let's get moving."

The small team advanced further into the complex, making good time. They stumbled on several Blue Suns patrols, but nothing that couldn't be dealt with through liberal use of bullets, biotics, and Light. Odin's Void Bombs in particular were excellent at cleaning up grouped up enemies. When they tried to separate to avoid the large explosions, Shepard charged on the stragglers and Garrus placed precise headshots, mopping them up quickly.

As Odin watched the Commander fight, he made another mental note to investigate biotics. They bore a striking similarity to Void Light, not only in color but also in the way they both dealt with gravity and space. Certainly, the power of biotics couldn't hold a candle to the sheer force of Void Energy, but the similarities were there.

The Warlock gave a split second pause between incinerating mercenaries. If they were so similar, could the powers of biotics be replicated by his Void Light? It's not as though he needed to power up his abilities, but some of the utilizations of biotics in this galaxy were... inventive, to say the least.

The biotic charge, for example. The best that Odin could guess, it was like a long range, weaponized Blink. The problem was with friction and air resistance though. That was why Blinks were so short range. Any longer and the ability became dangerous and unstable. He had to resurrect more than a few times when he tried to extend the range of it.

Shepard, however, looked like a purple comet when she charged, different from the streak of white that Hunters and Warlocks looked like when they Blinked. Maybe if he wreathed himself in Void Energy, forming a kind of sheath around him? It could be used to reduce friction and air resistance, sort of like a lubricant.

Odin's brainstorming stopped as he noticed that all the enemies in the immediate area had been killed. They had found themselves in a circular area, with a single Krogan in basic armor fighting against several mercenaries. Figuring that the Blue Suns were the bigger threat, Shepard had told them to ignore the Krogan.

Now the large alien turned to look at the group. It paused as its gaze passed over them, then it slowly lowered its weapon and began to walk towards them. It walked with stumbling, slow footsteps, as though it were dazed, or in a dream.

It stumbled past Garrus and Shepard, stopping only a step away from Odin. It leaned its head towards him and sniffed. "You... are different," it spoke. "Bright. You don't smell of this world. Seven night cycles, and I have felt only the need to kill. But you... something makes me speak."

"Seven night cycles?" Garrus mused. "Seven days? He's a week old?"

"They must breed them full size, ready to kill," Shepard said. "Not much improvement over regular mercs if they need training."

The Krogan cocked its head. "Bred... to kill. No. I kill because my blood and bone tell me to. But it's not why I was flushed from glass mother. Survival is what I hear in my head. Against the enemy that threatens all my kind. But I failed even before awakening. That is what the voice in the water said. That is why I wait here."

Odin narrowed his eyes. "...I think I get it now. Okeer clones them in artificial wombs and gives them implanted memories. How to fight, how to live, and so on. He's likely looking for a strain that are immune to the Genophage. The ones he flushes out are the failed test subjects."

Shepard frowned at Odin before looking back at the Krogan. "Can you show me the laboratory? I need to speak with Okeer."

The Krogan hesitated, as if trying to find the right words. "The... glass mother. She is up. Past the broken parts. Behind many of..." it looked at Garrus and Shepard. "you fleshy things. I will show you."

It turned and walked over to one of the walls, wiping the dirt off its hands. It reached one of the sheets of metal, gripped it with both hands, and lifted it. It gave a heavy growl and tossed it to the side, where it landed with a loud clang.

Garrus made a noise that sounded like a whistle as they walked over. "He sure eats his vegetables."

Behind the metal was a long cave, formed of old ship parts and hanging wires, stretching downward into earth. Odin pursed his lips slightly as memories of the Hive and their many tunnels in the moon came to his mind.

"You fleshy things are slow when big things are in your way," the Krogan said bluntly.

Odin looked at the large alien. "Only death will come to you if you stay here. You could come with us, live to see another day."

The Krogan hesitated for a moment, then shook its head. "No Bright One, I must wait. The voice told me to. If they come, I fight. But I will not run, and I will not follow. I am not perfect, but I have purpose. I must wait until called. Released."

Odin bit his lip as a sharp pain stabbed through his throat and chest. This alien... this young being of only a week old. It was told to stay here and die, and for what? Because it was not what its creator wished? Because it was not 'perfect?'

He could sense its soul. It held no darkness, no corruption like so many other creatures he had killed. He held hatred for so many enemies of humanity, but this being... its Light was so small, flickering against the vast universe, but it was there nonetheless, burning in defiance against the circumstances of its creation.

It was horrible to think that it must die here. No chance. No peace. No hope.

Only fighting against a foe it could not win against.

Before Odin knew it, he had stepped forward and laid a hand on the Krogan's helmet. "May the Light carry you beyond the Dark," he whispered.

The Krogan looked at Odin for several moments before nodding. "Thank you Bright One." It turned and lumbered away, inserting a fresh thermal clip into its shotgun, ready to face its inevitable death.

Odin watched it go, a melancholy expression on his face. A few hundred years ago and he would have never felt sympathetic for an alien. He had been much more cynical back then. He had thought that every and all aliens were the enemies of humanity, whose only purpose was to be exterminated.

It had been Variks who had disabused him of that notion. The old Eliksni had no almost no darkness in his soul compared to his Fallen cousins. Odin had initially been hostile to him, but had warmed up greatly in the years that he had hunted Skolas and the Wolves.

It had started with simple exchanges of information and knowledge. They had initially been cold, but as Odin had gotten to know Variks, he found that he liked him. The old Eliksni had an... odd sense of humour, but one that Odin greatly enjoyed. More than that, Variks was a veritable wellspring of knowledge. It was he who taught Odin the Fallen language and customs.

By the time that Odin had been ambushed by the Vex and sent here, he and Variks had been... perhaps not friends, but something very close.

Briefly, Odin wondered what would have happened if he had never met the old Eliksni. Would he have killed the Batarian that he had first met on Omega on sight? Would he have gone on a rampage, slaughtering alien after alien in the belief that they were irredeemable?

He preferred not to think about it.

He was brought out of his musings as Shepard laid a hand on his shoulder. "Come on," she said. "Let's go."

He nodded, and the group advanced down the tunnel in front of them.

They didn't make it very far before they heard shouting and gunshots. A few seconds after, four Blue Suns turned the corner, still firing at whatever was chasing them in panic.

Odin didn't waste any time, summoning Void Energy to his hand and tossing a scatter grenade in their midst. The grenade burst apart, sending particles of Void Light into the bodies of the Blue Suns, converting their bodies into dark matter and blowing them apart.

A few seconds later a Krogan turned the corner, a smoking shotgun in its hand. It turned to point it at the team, who raised their own weapons in response, their fingers on the triggers.

The Krogan stopped. It lowered its weapon and walked towards them, passing Garrus and Shepard and stopping just in front of Odin. It leaned forward and sniffed him. It said a single word.

There were more Krogan in the tunnel. Half a dozen, including the one they had just encountered. They all held heavy shotguns. They were all clad in heavy armor. A single one of them could tear through a squad of trained soldiers.

None of them attacked.

All of them walked to Odin and smelled him.

And all of them said the same thing.

"Bright."

(0)(0)(0)

The more Odin heard about this Jedore, the more he began to hate her.

It wasn't just her screechy voice that screamed out over the loudspeaker every five seconds. Nor was it the massive superiority complex she seemed to possess. It wasn't even that she was responsible for the young Krogans that he had met earlier.

If Odin had to narrow it down to one thing, it would be just how awful of a commander that she was. Her voice wouldn't be so bad if she was giving tactical advice to the Blue Suns. Instead, everything she said was simple bitching, demanding that they fight harder to kill Shepard's team and the Krogans.

From what he could gather, actual command had fallen to a sub-commander. He was trying his best, but the pressure between the Krogans and Shepard's squad ensured that most of his efforts were wasted. Not that Odin was complaining, mind you, but he was fighting Humans, not minions of Darkness. Some respect was necessary.

To make matters worse, from what he had heard, Jedore had a personal retinue of combat droids which she refused to deploy to bolster the dying men. That was what really pissed Odin off. Non-sapient machines were disposable. Human lives were not. Yet, this woman refused to trade the former for the latter? The very concept of it spat in his face as a Guardian.

"There are three of them!" Jedore screeched over the loudspeaker. "Three! Anything can be killed-"

The voice was abruptly silenced as Odin put a three round burst through the speaker it was coming from, causing the machine to give out a series of high pitched noises before finally die.

"Well, that's one down at least," Garrus muttered.

"One is too few," Odin muttered. "I swear, her voice is almost making me want to comb through this entire complex just so I can hunt down every last one of those speakers."

"We have a mission to do. We need to focus on that." Shepard said. She looked over to Odin. "Besides, couldn't you just have your Ghost hack the comms and make it so she can't transmit?"

There was a pause, then the noise of a hand smacking against a helmet. "Traveler dammit!" Odin shouted. "Why didn't I think of that?!"

Garrus gave an amused snort. "All that age and knowledge, and you couldn't think of that? For shame..."

Odin gave the Turian a rather rude gesture involving a raised finger, earning another snort from Garrus.

"As amusing as it is to watch Odin fumble around like this," the Ghost said, appearing above the Warlock's shoulder, "I can't remotely hack it. Jedore's hardwired into the system. If I want to turn her off, I'll need to find a junction."

Odin rested Bad Juju on his shoulder. "Well then, time to find one."

Shepard glared at him. "We have a mission to do."

Odin rolled his eyes. "Relax, this won't take long. Besides, you and Garrus should be enough to deal with a few half-trained mercenaries. I'll catch up soon enough."

Shepard frowned. "...Fine. But don't take too long."

Odin gave her a flippant wave as she and Garrus disappeared down a hallway. He sighed and brought his hand up, his Ghost floating just above it. "Alright," he said. "Do your thing."

The Ghost gave what could be considered a nod, then began to rotate, sending flashes of light in each direction. The light spread over through the complex, passing through openings and spreading across ceilings, floors and walls.

Only a few seconds passed before the Ghost spoke. "Found one. About a hundred meters from your position. Marking it now."

Odin nodded and began to walk towards the marker. It wasn't long before he arrived in front of the junction in the form of a small box. He looked at it for a few seconds before gripping the cover, focusing a bit of Void Light to weaken the lock, then ripping the cover off, exposing the wires and circuitry inside.

The Ghost didn't need to be told what to do. It floated over to the open box and sent a beam of light into it, swiftly tearing apart any meager defenses the Blue Suns had set up. "Alright," the Ghost said after a second, "Got it. She's locked out of the system for good."

Odin grinned as the Ghost returned to his hand, digitizing after a moment. "Good job, and it didn't take you three hours this time."

"Hey, I don't take _that_ long!" the Ghost shouted in his mind.

"What about the time when we were taking out Sepiks Prime and you had to take down the laser field?"

"That was one time!"

"What about the strike against Phogoth with the tryptic of Hive Runes? Or when you we went into the World's Grave? Or even that time you forgot to close the door to the Archives?"

"That last thing wasn't even me hacking something!" the Ghost protested.

Odin chuckled as he walked towards where Shepard was. Maybe he shouldn't tease his Ghost that much, but he just couldn't help it. The small mote of the Traveler was simply too fun to rile up.

"They're over there," the Ghost huffed, changing the subject and marking an entrance on Odin's HUD.

The Warlock smiled as he entered. "Hey Shepard, I'm ba-"

He saw **it**.

 **It** wore an Asari's face. **It** spoke with an Asari's voice. **It** moved with an Asari's body. **It** acted like an Asari.

 **It** was anything but an Asari.

There was no mistaking the all too familiar feeling that Odin felt. It was like raw sewage on the surface of the mind, like bile and vomit running down the body, like bathing in rotting blood and garbage.

Odin couldn't forget the feeling if he tried. No Guardian could. It was suffused within their body and mind and soul. The terrible, awful feeling that was ever present from the moment they are reborn in Light.

It was the sensation every time they looked into the eyes of the enemy. It was the sensation that they felt every time they pulled the trigger. It was the sensation they felt when they delved into the Ketchs of the Fallen, the depths of the Hellmouth, the ruins of the Vex, the fortresses of the Cabal.

 **Darkness**

Odin was moving within a second, his body flooding with Light, bringing his already great strength to incredible levels. He grabbed **it** by the throat with his hand and slammed **it** against the wall, leaving **its** feet dangling off the ground. **It** gurgled and choked and struggled against his grip, but his grip on **it** remained firm and strong.

He leaned in, his eyes locked with **its**. "I do not know how you arrived in this galaxy," he snarled through clenched teeth. "But I know your intentions. You corrupt and destroy. You infect and conquer. You kill and ruin. All you bring is death and decay."

"But here I stand," Odin said. "A child of the Light. And so long as I exist, so long as my Light shines, you will never succeed. I am Odin. Warlock. Guardian. I have faced your kind time and time again. I have killed Crota, Atheon, Kells and Archons and High Servitors, Valuses and Primuses. I have slain legions upon legions of your kind. Your masters will fare no different."

"Do you hear me? I will sear you and your masters with my burning Light. I will unravel your machinations and plots and turn them into ash. I will find your masters and I will stand upon their broken bodies."

"I am Odin, and before me, you are nothing."

Solar Light rippled through his arm, engulfing **it** , spreading through **its** body like a ravenous swarm. **It** would have screamed, if not for Odin's grip upon **its** throat and the Solar Light which ate away at **its** body, burning even ashes.

Odin took a shaky breath, clenching his teeth and curling his hands into fists as a hundred thoughts and more raced through his head. The Darkness was here. How? Why? What form were they? How could he fight against it?

Was it the Vex? That was the most likely. They had interdimensional travel, and their ultimate plan of making themselves a multiversal constant would agree with the hypothesis of them being here.

Odin had fought the Vex before. He had more experience with them than any other Guardian, except for perhaps Kabr and Osiris. The former was most likely dead, and the latter had disappeared for centuries. He had delved into the Vault of Glass, killed Atheon, and reaped the rewards of the Vault. Much of his armor was formed from Vex material, and his very ship, the Aspect of Glass, was once an invention of the semi-organic race.

If they were here, then this galaxy was in a _lot_ of trouble. Despite his earlier boast, Odin was only one Guardian. He couldn't be everywhere, and as far as he knew there wasn't any Traveler in this galaxy. No Traveler meant no other Guardians. No other Guardians meant that the only forces to fight the Darkness were ordinary mortal soldiers, and him.

He bit back a curse. This was the worst possible situation. How was he going to deal with this? He might be able to share his knowledge but-

Something slammed against his helmet, hard enough to almost stagger him. He whirled, snarling.

"What the _hell_ Odin!" Shepard shouted, shaking her fist from the impact of it hitting the Warlock's helmet.

Odin blinked and scowled at her. " _What?"_ he bit out.

"Don't 'what' me!" she shouted back. "You just killed her!"

" **It**." He corrected. "It lost the right to be called a person long ago when its soul was corrupted."

Shepard cocked her head and gave him a look. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Odin grit his teeth and pointed to where the ashes rested. "You're not a Guardian," he hissed. "You couldn't sense what had happened to it. I could. Its soul was blackened and twisted and corrupted by the Darkness into something that didn't resemble anything like what it was when it was still a person."

"And that gives you the authority to execute them whenever you feel like it?"

" _Yes_!" Odin said. "I'm a Guardian. It is my duty to find and destroy any and every trace of Darkness I can."

Shepard narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at him. "Maybe in your galaxy, but here we _don't_ kill people without just cause." She sighed and scowled. "We can discuss this back on the Normandy. For now we have a mission to complete."

Odin snorted. "Fine. Let's go."

(0)(0)(0)

Okeer was insane.

Oh, he wasn't the raving, utterly mad insane. Not the kind you see in fiction, with the wild hair and rabid, absurd experiments. His insanity was more subtle, the insidious kind that made you believe that the madman was completely sane.

Odin was familiar with it, after all, more than a few Warlocks were like that. For the most part they were harmless. Sure, their research may be a little... controversial, but many would say the same of his own.

Osiris had been like that. Odin hadn't been a Guardian long before the old Warlock had been exiled, only a few months, but he had attended one of his seminars. What he had heard was... disturbing at the time. Osiris was convincing and charismatic, there was no doubt about that, but something about him had rubbed Odin the wrong way.

He got the same feeling from Okeer, more so when he found out exactly what the old Krogan was trying to do. At first, Odin had thought that Okeer was trying to breed a strain of Krogan that were immune to the Genophage through cloning, then spread the strain through the galaxy in order to cure said disease.

Odin couldn't have been more wrong. Okeer didn't want to overcome the Genophage. Okeer wanted to ignore it. The old Krogan was trying to create a template of a 'perfect' Krogan. Incredible strength, agility, intelligence, and combat skill. From that template he would clone an army of soldiers and conquer the galaxy.

Yes, Okeer was insane. Odin had voiced this to Shepard, but she was still angry at him over him destroying the corrupted Asari. He honestly couldn't understand why. It was a thing of Darkness. Even if it was just harbinger of what was to come, it still was something that had to be dealt with as soon as possible. The Darkness was beyond dangerous. The Collapse in his galaxy was a testament to that. Even a single vex unit had more destructive power than the rocket that had just exploded a few feet away from his head.

"Dammit Odin!" Garrus shouted. "Stop dreaming and help us!"

Odin scowled, leaning out of the cover he was in and firing a few bursts into the large mech they were fighting. He hated fighting one or two large enemies without any mooks around. A lot of his normal tactics wouldn't work, given how many of his weapons thrived off killing weaker enemies and the large number of his powers which were large explosions meant for splash damage over sheer power.

And the two enemies that Odin and the group were facing were anything but weak. The mech had thick shields and even thicker armor, and Jedore was just as tough, with her rocket launcher being an immense pain in the ass.

"Die! Crawl into a hole and die!"

Plus, her voice was incredibly annoying.

"I'll take Jedore!" Shepard shouted, beginning to activate her biotic charge. "You two get the mech!"

Garrus shouted a confirmation as Shepard shot across the room, slamming into Jedore hard enough to stagger her. The Commander followed up with a shotgun blast that bit heavily into her shields.

Jedore snarled, activating her omni-tool and pressing a button on it. There was a cracking noise, and a Krogan burst out one of the large glass vials. "Kill them!" she snarled.

The Krogan looked at Odin and Garrus.

It looked at Jedore.

It looked at Odin and Garrus.

Then it roared and charged Jedore.

"Not me you stupid beast!" the Blue Suns commander shouted, firing a few rockets at it. "Them! THEM!"

Odin chuckled, then suddenly cursed as the mech suppressed him with a burst of machine gun fire. That machine was incredibly annoying. Bad Juju was relatively powerful, but it wasn't doing much to its shields. He cursed the fact that the secrets of Arc Light were hidden from him.

Well, time to bring out the big guns then.

Odin dismissed Bad Juju into his digital armory and reached deep into his digital armory until he found the weapon he desired. It was a weapon that he had discovered in the vault of Valus Ta'aurc after he and two of his friends had killed it.

He wasn't sure where the Cabal General had found the weapon. Perhaps it had taken the gun as a trophy from a defeated Guardian. Perhaps it had simply found it in one of the ruins that were found all over Mars. Either way, it didn't matter. Ta'aurc was dead and the weapon had been claimed by Odin.

Now he drew it and stood, pointing it at the mech. It was a large gun, almost a full meter in length. Lightning crackled over its grey and blue frame, coming from the induction core within. A trail of glimmer bullets leading from its magazine to its feed rattled as the gun moved.

Odin smirked and squeezed the trigger.

And Thunderlord roared its rage.

CHNK. CHNK. CHNK CHNK. CHNK CHNK CHNK. CHNK CHNK CHNK CHNK CHNK CHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNKCHNK.

The lightning rounds slammed into the mech's shields with the force of the storm, ripping the kinetic barrier apart like it was so much paper, then began to hammer its armor, punching deep craters in its hull.

Odin grinned as he held down the trigger. He could feel his Light responding to the gun, causing his power to rise and blaze like a solar flare. Despite himself, Odin began to cry out beside the gun, his voice barely visible above the constant gunfire.

The mech staggered as one of the bullets managed to break through the armor, shredding several wires and systems. It began to list, even as Thunderlord continued to hammer it with its fury.

Then there was a click as the machine gun ran out of ammo.

The mech groaned, and slowly stood back up to its full height, sparks shooting from the exposed innards. It slowly raised the arm with the machine gun in it, and there was the sound of the weapon winding up.

Odin slumped slightly. "Ah... fuck it." He let Thunderlord digitize into his digital armory and dashed towards the mech. Bullets spat from the machine, rapidly eating up ground as the traced a line in the dirt towards Odin, sending small puffs of dust where they hit.

The second before the rounds would have hit Odin, the Warlock blinked to the side, continuing his pace. The mech barely hesitated, shifting its aim, only for Odin to blink again, then leap and glide onto the machine's head. It made a distressed sound and tried to reach up towards Odin, only to be prevented by the large pauldrons on its arms.

Odin didn't hesitate. He summoned Void Light to his hand, creating a jumble of energy in the form of a scatter grenade. He leaned down over the front of the mech with his face directly in front of the machine's faceplate, then drew Hawkmoon and fanned the trigger directly into the glass. The faceplate shattered on the third shot, exposing the inner workings of the head. Odin gripped the scatter grenade and shoved it directly into its head.

There was a pause.

Then its head exploded.

The mech fell to its knees, then collapsed utterly, Odin rolling off at the last moment into a perfect three point landing. He smirked slightly, holding the pose for a few seconds in order to savor the pure awesomeness of the feat he had just accomplished.

"Odin! Get out of there! It's going to explode!"

Wait what?

A second later, the eezo core in the mech detonated, creating an explosion that was not dissimilar to a small nuke going off. Odin's armor, hardened with hadronic essence and Light, lasted barely a moment before being torn apart, turning his body into so much cloth, metal, and meat.

There was a falling sensation as Odin felt his soul returning to his Ghost. Were it possible, he would have sighed. It wasn't the first time he had died in a stupid way. Falling into one of his own scatter grenades as it was detonating was one of the more embarrassing moments. Aithne never let him forget that...

He was actually somewhat annoyed at himself for that basic mistake. He was getting sloppy with the lack of Darkness Zones in this galaxy. Sure, he could afford to, after all, there wasn't really a risk of him not being able to come back, but it was still a bad habit to gain.

A moment later he felt his Ghost ready to make a new body, and he sent the mental message for it to do so. There was another sensation of falling, and he felt the familiar weight of gravity as his body dropped a foot or so onto the ground next to Shepard.

"Well," Odin said, "That was annoying."

Shepard gaped at him, rapidly looking between him and the origin point of the explosion. "I... wha... how?"

Garrus walked over, chuckling and holstering his sniper rifle. "Like I said, he wasn't joking when he said that he had died before."

Shepard blinked. "I... so I see." She frowned and looked at Odin. "Don't do that again."

Odin chuckled. "No promises." He paused and looked up at the room where he had seen Okeer. He couldn't sense the Light of the old Krogan anymore, but there was another one up there. A Light that was faint at the moment, but Odin could sense the potential in it.

He frowned. What would he do with the being? Guide it? Kill it? It was an alien, but both Garrus and Variks were aliens, and neither of them had turned out hostile. Nor had that odd alien that he had seen when he had first met up with Shepard.

Odin sighed. So many options. Well, when in doubt, go with his plan B.

That is to say, make shit up as he went along.

* * *

 **AN:** I'm so, so sorry for the late upload. A combination of writers block and finals hitting me like a truck made my work ethic go to shit. Winter break is coming up for me, so I'll have plenty of free time to write. The next chapter should be up _much_ sooner.

An Anonymoose: I usually play on the Xbone, though I also have Destiny for the 360.

Knives91: Fun fact! That fireteam is actually a canon fireteam. If you loiter around the Tower, you might hear Zavala ask the fireteam to report in. He gives a hilarious sigh which just tells you how done he is with them.

modeluchosen: I'd say that this chapter answers at least one of those questions. Keep in mind though that the Reapers are multi-kilometer long warships. Unless Odin manages to get on board and find the core, his weapons won't do much other than scratch the hull.

Many of you have been asking about Stormcaller powers. They will be in the story eventually, but when and in what form is a mystery... for now.

Thank you all for the reviews. I read through each one and appreciate them all.

I'll be keeping the shipping poll up on my profile page until the release of next chapter. If you haven't voted already, go and take a gander.

I'll see you next chapter!


	8. And the Strength of the Wolf is the Pack

_When I was a kid, I remember my father taking me to a science expo. This was not long after we discovered The Traveler and our technology skyrocketed. I remember seeing stalls and stalls of the latest tech, bleeding edge stuff. Medicine that eliminated diseases that had plagued us for centuries. Cancer, AIDS, even the common cold. I remember seeing the first prototypes for an FTL drive. I remember seeing the first glimmer prototypes and the microforges that would manipulate them._

 _I don't think my father expected me to enjoy it as much as I did. I had always been an introverted child, understandable all things considered. My mother died when I was young and, despite doing his best, my father couldn't be there all the time. He took me to the expo because he decided that I needed to get out of the house and see the future._

 _I soaked it up like a sponge. It fascinated me, the potential of what humanity is capable of. I saw it all, and I knew in that moment that I needed to get into this. I needed to be part of this future, part of what we would do. I needed to be part of the new generation of explorers and adventurers. I needed to fly among the stars, to see what was out there._

 _Well, I didn't quite end up doing that, but being part of the people who ensured others could wasn't a bad thing._

 _Heh, I remember something my father said to me during that expo. "Son, one day you're going to fly. Maybe not with wings of feather, but with wings of fire, you're gonna soar."_

 _He had no idea just how accurate that statement was._

-Excerpt from Warlock Odin's journal

(0)(0)(0)

To many aliens, human ships were somewhat cold. This is an understandable attitude given the rather warm temperatures of the planets that were home to most of the other Council races. These temperatures ranged from 2-8 degrees celsius warmer than Earth, causing many of these aliens to be slightly uncomfortable on Alliance ships.

Of course, there were ways around this. Many Turians, who developed on a warmer world, often wore thick clothing or temperature regulated armor to keep themselves at a comfortable level. Asari and Salarians, whose worlds were only a bit warmer than Earth, usually either wore more covering clothing or simply toughed it out.

Nevertheless, some of the Council races complained about the balmy temperatures that Humans preferred. These complaints were usually either laughed off or simply ignored. Such responses, combined with the temperatures they preferred, had given humans a bit of a reputation for being creatures of the cold. In fact, when a human stated that they were from Canada or Russia, an alien would know that they couldn't just live in the cold. They could thrive in it.

Were those complaining aliens in the Normandy's bay at the moment, they would still be complaining. However, they wouldn't be annoyed at the cooler temperatures.

They would most likely be annoyed at the scorching heat that was being put out by the very angry Warlock meditating in the large room. Waves of invisible heat flooded off his body like armor off an incinerated Minotaur, to the point that the air itself shimmered and most of the non-essential personnel had fled the extreme conditions.

Odin himself was floating an inch off the ground, his face twisted in a frown of concentration and his mind embroiled in a swirling quagmire of thought. With the high of the previous battle worn off, the full realization of the situation had come crashing down upon him, spoiling his mood and forcing him to face the undeniable truth:

The Darkness was here. Here, in this Galaxy which was so at peace compared to his own. This Galaxy which held no Traveler.

His face twitched into a scowl. Damn it, he had been sloppy! This Galaxy was so bathed in Light that he had never expected the incarnation of evil that had plagued his home for so long to be here. He could just imagine Amaris' voice, calling him a fool for slipping into complacency before smacking him over the head with an Arc enhanced fist.

The thought earned a chuckle from Odin before it was swallowed in the anxiety that threatened to engulf him. What was he to do? It had taken thousands of Guardians to protect even The City. He was one Guardian, and despite his age and skill, there was no way he could protect a Galaxy like this.

...Or could he? The Darkness had succeeded in almost destroying humanity the first time because of how unprepared his people were. If he could warn the people of this galaxy, if he could give them the few scraps of technology from the Golden Age that he had, they might have a fighting chance. Surprise gave the Darkness an astounding advantage, but without that there might be a way to succeed.

Maybe. Possibly. All he could do was hope, after all.

Odin paused as he sensed a new Light approaching the hanger, one brighter than the others on board the Normandy. He gave a slight sigh as the elevator doors opened. He knew that this was coming sooner or later. There was no way it wouldn't after what had happened yesterday.

He stood and turned. "Hello Shepard."

The Commander of the Normandy narrowed her eyes, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to one leg. "Odin. You know why I'm here, don't you?"

Odin gave a slight nod. "Of course. You want to know why I killed it."

"Her," she said. "She had a name, and it was Rana-"

"Its name doesn't matter anymore," the Warlock cut in. "Shepard, you don't understand. You are a normal human. You don't have the same senses that I have. I can tell on sight what something is. I can tell exactly how many people are on this ship, how powerful their will is, and in what state they're in. So believe me when I say that what we encountered was no longer a person. They may have once been one, but not anymore."

"Of course they're not a person anymore," Shepard said with a sharp snort. "You turned them into ashes pretty damn well."

Odin groaned and threw his arms up. "That's not what I meant and you know it! A person doesn't desire the utter destruction or subjugation of other races! A person isn't willing to slaughter a thousand people just to please their masters!"

"That doesn't give you the right to just kill them in the street!" She shouted back. "It doesn't matter what they did-"

" **They destroyed my people**!" Odin roared, his eyes blazing with fury. Shepard gulped and took a step back, only for Odin to move towards her. "Do you have any idea how it feels?" he seethed, "to wake up one day, hundreds of years after your last memory, to find that humanity was but a shadow of what it was? Do you have any idea what it's like to learn that the population of your people number under a hundred million? To find out that the only place left in the universe where your people can go to sleep, not wondering if monsters are going to kill them in their sleep is a city under the corpse of a broken god? _Do you?_ "

"Odin, I-"

"No," the Warlock hissed. "You don't. Your humanity never encountered the Darkness. You have no idea of the ever present fear that everyone in my home feels. You have no idea of the shame or desperation that we have to live with." He narrowed his eyes. "But if you don't listen to me, you may just one day. The Darkness is not something to be trifled with. You can't give it mercy. You can't expect it to redeem itself. All you can do is purge every last bit you find with the hottest fire you can muster."

Shepard clenched her teeth and narrowed her eyes. "That may be true in your world," she said, "But this isn't your world. This is mine, and in my world you can't just go around killing people off the street because you suspect them of being corrupted! You don't know if there was a way to save her! Maybe we could have captured her and found a way to cure her of Darkness!"

"Do you think you're the only one to think of that?" Odin asked, his eyes blazing. "Countless Warlocks have studied the corruption of the Darkness. Guardians have spent centuries researching this, and we are no closer to discovering a cure. Not even we Guardians are immune to the corruption, only resistant to it." He shook his head. "Why can't you understand? There's no way to save someone once they're corrupted. Besides, whoever she was, she wasn't a nice person before. You can only get corrupted by coming in contact with the Darkness. Whatever she did likely had her get close to it."

Shepard frowned. "She wasn't a bad person, and it wasn't her choice. I met her before, back when I was hunting Saren. She was an innocent researcher who was forced into studying something outside her control. There's no way she..." Shepard blinked, her gaze drifting away from Odin's face. "She was studying..."

Odin cocked his head at her. "What is it?"

"This Darkness," Shepard said suddenly, whirling to face him. "How does it corrupt people?"

The Warlock took a half step back, his eyebrows raised. "I'd go into the details, but it would take years to explain all the metaphysics. Suffice to say, it's a slow, subtle process. It's almost impossible to notice until it's too late, unless it's detected by a Guardian, and even then it's not a sure thing. Not even we're truly immune to it, just highly resistant. One of the most infamous examples is Dredgen Yor, a Guardian who fell to the Darkness and slew countless others. Why?"

"Does this corruption make the person believe that they're doing the right thing as they're being influenced?" Shepard asked.

Odin nodded. "That or promise them power or desires they may have."

The commander blinked. Then she blinked again. "God in heaven, are you telling me you can sense when a person's indoctrinated?!"

The Warlock's eyebrows creased. "Wait, what? Indoctrination? Shepard, what are you talking about?"

"The Reapers," she said, "I assume you read what I said about them?" At Odin's nod, Shepard continued. "They possess this... ability called Indoctrination. Anyone who stays in their presence for long enough begins to have their views swayed towards the Reapers' goals. By the end of it, they're practically worshipping the Reapers and can't be brought back to normal."

Odin rubbed his chin. "That... does sound somewhat like the Corruption of Darkness." He paused, then looked at Shepard. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"That your Darkness and the Reapers are one and the same?" Shepard asked. "That's exactly what I'm thinking."

The warlock frowned. "Huh, guess Saint-14 was right in this situation..."

The commander blinked. "Huh?"

Odin waved her off. "Nothing. Doesn't matter now. What does is that if your Reapers are this galaxy's version of the Darkness, our chances just went up greatly."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "You consider an armada of thousands of two kilometer long dreadnoughts to be the easier of two options?"

"Considering that the Darkness that I'm familiar with could manipulate the fabric of space and time, has committed genocide on hundreds if not thousands of species, and blown up planets for the simple crime of getting in the way of their warpath? Yes, I do consider this option easier."

"Oh," Shepard said simply. "That sounds... bad."

Odin gave a morbid chuckle and nodded. "That's one way of putting it." He took a breath and looked the Commander in the eye. "Shepard, I'm a Guardian, duty bound to fight the Darkness in whatever form it takes. If this galaxy is threatened, I _cannot_ simply allow humanity to fall once again."

"Even so, if a person is indoctrinated, I can't just let you kill them on the street." She pursed her lips and thought for a moment. "How about a compromise? If you identify someone who's indoctrinated, we'll pick them up and see what they know and if they can be saved. If they can, we'll save them. If not..."

Odin nodded slowly. "That's... acceptable. I don't believe that anyone corrupted by the Darkness can be saved, but I'll abide by your terms."

"Glad to hear it," Shepard said, extending her hand. "I look forward to working with you Odin."

The Warlock smiled slightly, shaking her hand. "Likewise."

Then Shepard gave a beatific smile. "Excellent. Now for your punishment."

Odin blinked. "...Pardon?"

"Your punishment," Shepard repeated. "For acting like you did and being overzealous in dealing with Thanoptis."

"You must be joking," Odin said.

"Oh, I assure you, I'm completely serious."

The warlock gave the commander an incredulous stare, holding it for a few moments before sighing. It would be more trouble than it was worth to try to argue with her, so he may as well just get it over with. "Fine, what do I need to do?"

"You remember the Krogan in a can that we got from the last mission?" Shepard asked.

Odin blinked. "You mean the thing from Okeer's lab that's currently upstairs? Of course."

"Good," Shepard said. "I want you to open it."

Odin stared at her for a few seconds before sighing and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "...I can't say I was expecting that. Why me?"

"Because I don't know if the Krogan will be hostile or not and will try and kill us as soon as we let it out. If it _is_ hostile, then I'd rather have someone who can come back to life being the one to die," Shepard said cheerfully.

Odin gave her a level stare. "This is retribution for me rushing ahead at the beginning of last mission, isn't it?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, completely deadpan.

Odin sighed once again. "Fine. I'll head up there in a few minutes."

"Thank you Odin," Shepard said, giving him one last smile before walking away.

There was a pause, and then Odin's Ghost appeared above his shoulder. It looked at him, then at Shepard, then back at him.

"You do realize you deserve this?"

"Fuck you."

(0)(0)(0)

"I can't believe I'm doing this," Odin said, staring at the tank in front of him. It had barely been half an hour since his talk with Shepard, and now he found himself standing in front of the sealed Krogan. He watched the liquid inside bubble as the pod kept the Krogan alive.

There was a shimmer and his Ghost appeared. "At least this time it's someone making you do it, so it's not one of your stupid ideas."

Odin glared at the Ghost before turning back to the Krogan in front of him. "What's his status?"

"The subject is stable, Odin," EDI said, her voice coming clearly from the ceiling. "Integration with onboard systems was seamless. Current neural patterns are stable but minimal, indicating that he likely is unconscious, or in a state similar to unconsciousness. The subject is an exceptional example of the Krogan species, with fully formed primary, secondary, and tertiary organs, where applicable. No defects of any kind, aside from the genetic markers of the genophage present in all Krogan."

Odin slowly nodded. "Ghost?"

The small fragment of the Traveler flew forward to float directly in front of the pod. It looked at the Krogan for a moment before turning its attention to the holographic control panel. A beam of light shot from its eye, connecting it with the internal computer aboard the pod. "EDI's right on all accounts," it said eventually. "Obviously, it possesses no potential of Light..." The Ghost paused. "That's odd..."

Odin frowned. "What is it? Don't tell me it can manipulate Light."

"No," the Ghost said, "Nothing like that, but its soul is bright. Brighter than most normal living beings. Nowhere near the luminosity of a Guardian's, obviously, but I've only seen this much in a select few among Humanity."

"That _is_ odd," Odin said, after a few moments. "Very odd. This universe just keeps getting weirder and weirder, doesn't it?"

The Ghost gave a sound that was suspiciously similar to a snort. "Understatement of the millennia," it said. "Only you Odin. Only you would find yourself in a situation like this."

The Warlock smirked. "Thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"Ah. Then fuck you."

The Ghost simply chuckled. "Your idiocy aside, this Krogan is odd to say the least. Think we should still release him?"

"I must advise caution," EDI said, contributing to the conversation. "I am unsure of how he will act if we release him. Krogan are naturally inclined towards violence. It's possible that he will attempt to attack you."

"I've faced down charging Hive Knights and angry Cabal," Odin said. "A single Krogan is nothing. And if he does somehow manage to kill me, I'll just revive and kill him back."

EDI was silent for a moment. "Very well Odin. The controls are online. The switch, and consequences, are yours."

Odin nodded at his Ghost. Unbidden, a memory came to his mind. Back when he was alive, when he helped with the colony ships in Old Russia, there was a passcode used to open the stasis pods. What were they...? Ah yes.

"Do it. Unseal the hushed casket."

The Ghost bobbed, nodding back. It turned to the panel, a beam of light shooting from its eye to the controls. A few moments after, the liquid in the pod swiftly drained down the tubes connecting the pod to the Normandy. At the same time, the pod shifted forward, moving the Krogan from a leaning position to a standing position.

The doors of the pod opened and the Krogan, without the liquid and the angle of the pod to keep him supported, collapsed forward. He coughed, spilling liquid from his lungs. He rose, his eyes clouded and unseeing.

Odin frowned, shifting his stance. One of his hands instinctively moved to the butt of Hawkmoon. With long practiced ease, the power of his Light rose within him, ready to lash out and destroy the threats that the Guardian faced.

The Krogan blinked. Once. Twice.

His gaze centered on Odin.

With a roar he charged towards the Guardian, shoulder bared to smash into him.

A lesson that is hammered into the head of all young Guardians is that the only weapon they can truly rely on are themselves. Guns run out of ammo. Blades will shatter. But their body and Light? That will continue to work until the Guardian dies for the last time.

To that end, it has become standard for each Guardian to practice forms of martial arts, developed specifically for the Warriors of Light. Each of the branches tend to practice their own martial styles, the philosophies of each leaking into the forms.

Titans, for example, focus on heavy crushing blows designed to push past or destroy the guards of the enemy. Their attacks are not elegant, but they are highly effective, capable of sundering steel beneath their fists.

Hunters, on the other hand, have a style based on their agility and their natural sense of style. Their attacks are quick and flashy, and their movements are designed to disorient and fake out opponents, leaving them easy prey to the killing blow.

Finally, the style of Warlocks is based around manipulating the enemy themselves. The style, in truth, does not possess a large number of attacks. Instead, Warlocks prefer throws and careful counters, designed to use the enemies' own strength against them.

So as the Krogan charged at Odin, the Warlock simply narrowed his eyes and pivoted to his right. His hands shot out, his left grabbing the collar of the Krogan's armor, while his right grabbed onto the alien's arm. His foot moved forward, kicking out one of the Krogan's legs while twisting with his arms.

Robbed of his stability, the Krogan spun head over heels and landed with a crash and a loud grunt.

Fast as a cobra, Odin grabbed Hawkmoon, pulling it out and pointing directly at the Krogan's eye. Silently, he thanked the Cabal for giving him the opportunities to practice the throw.

The Krogan looked at him, unaware or uncaring of the handcannon pointed at one of his vital areas. "Male. Huma-" He stopped, narrowing his eyes and sniffing. "No... not Human. What are you?"

Odin raised an eyebrow. The Krogan could tell he wasn't human? Interesting... "I'm a Guardian. How could you tell I wasn't Human?"

The Krogan growled. "You are too... bright. I don't know how to describe it. The Tank didn't tell me how to explain it." He gave a slight shake of his head. "It doesn't matter. Before you die, I need a name."

The Warlock gave the alien a look. "Do remember who has the gun pointed at whom. And my name's Odin."

"Not yours," the Krogan growled. "Mine. I am trained, I know things, but the tank... Okeer couldn't implant connection. His words are hollow." The alien glanced to the side. "Warlord, legacy, grunt... grunt. 'Grunt' was among the last. It has no meaning. It'll do." He looked back at Odin. "I am Grunt. If you are worthy of your might, prove your strength and try to destroy me."

Odin narrowed his eyes. "Destroy you? I've killed more beings like you than you'll ever meet. I've faced down beings so powerful that they were worshiped as gods and destroyed them utterly and completely. You shouldn't be so eager to die."

Grunt growled. "Fighting is what I was created to do. It's in my blood and brain. Fight and find the strongest." He made an odd noise. "Okeer... his imprint failed. I feel nothing towards his enemies or clan. Without a reason to fight that's mine, any fight's as good as another. Might as well start with you."

Odin sighed. Were all friendly Krogan that he met so eager to die? First the Krogans in the Blue Suns base, then this one. Sure, there was the one Krogan that he met that was on Garrus' team, but so far that one seemed to be the exception, not the rule.

Should he just kill this alien here and now? It wasn't as if he hated him. It was more that he pitied him, entering this world fully grown with no reason to live. It would be such a waste to end his life here, to waste all the potential of what he could be, even if he was an alien.

Even if... a few hundred years ago and Odin wouldn't have even considered those words. This Krogan would already be dead, along with so many other aliens that the Warlock had encountered in these past few days. They wouldn't have been able to easily stop him, the beings of this galaxy. Not a Guardian, and especially not him.

So much had changed since he had first been reborn in Light. His hatred had been heated in the forge of war, raised to immense temperatures by seeing the devastation that had been wrought upon his people and their homes. He had used that hate as a weapon against the Darkness, scouring it with burning Light where he found it.

But as he aged, that hatred had... not cooled, but been tempered. Like a piece of metal upon an anvil, the once raging emotions of Odin had settled. They had been focused, driven towards a specific point. Where once his anger was a great hammer, brutal but imprecise, it became a precise and razor sharp blade. With it, he had cut through his enemies, enforcing his own existence and growing his Legend.

With that tempering also came a different view. Many events had shaped Odin into the Guardian he was. The purging of the Black Garden, facing down Crota and slaying him, the incident with the House of Wolves, Skolas, and Variks...

And the Vault of Glass.

Odin inhaled sharply, suppressing the memories as they threatened to surge forth. He grit his teeth, focusing his willpower to change his attention to the matter at hand. The Vault was nowhere near this location. Thinking of it would bring nothing but trouble.

He looked down at the Krogan beneath him, patiently waiting for its judgement. Unconsciously, his finger began to brush against Hawkmoon's trigger. It would be so easy to squeeze it, ending the alien's life. Just another number in the millions of aliens Odin had killed...

But Shepard would probably raise a fuss if he did. She had gone through much in order to retrieve the pod, and she wouldn't be happy if that effort went to waste. He had no desire to get into another troublesome argument with her.

Besides, he did want to know just how this Krogan knew he wasn't human.

"If you try and fight me, you'll only die," Odin said. "But I tend to run into trouble. If you fight with me, you may be able to get a share of that trouble."

Grunt narrowed his eyes. "What kind of trouble?"

Odin smiled. "The kind that goes 'boom.'"

A grumbling noise came from the Krogan's throat. "...Fine, but if your enemies are weak, I'll kill you."

Odin chuckled, standing up and putting his gun away. "Oh, believe me, my enemies are anything but weak." He extended a hand towards the looked at it, then growled slightly as he grabbed it. A startled noise came from his throat as he was hoisted to his feet with casual ease from the Guardian.

Odin grinned at the Krogan's surprised expression. "We Guardians are a bit less squishy than Humans."

(0)(0)(0)

Odin stepped out of the elevator, his eyes scanning the environment, looking for Shepard. She had asked that he deal with Grunt as... punishment, and he had done just that. The Krogan had been awakened and promised loyalty to him, an odd position all things considered. The only example he could think of from his own universe was Variks' loyalty to the Queen, and that was under vastly different circumstances.

But Odin had Grunt's loyalty... for now at least. He didn't have much experience with fighting the aliens, but from what he could tell Krogans acted as incredible shock troopers, capable of taking immense amounts of damage with their regen factor and dealing out just as much.

With one such alien on their side, their performance on the battlefield should certainly grow. It wouldn't be as effective as having another quality Guardian by Odin's side, but it was still better than no allies. At the very least, the Krogan could serve as cannon fodder while Shepard, Odin, or one of their allies lined up a shot.

Speaking of the Commander, a quick glance registered her standing near a computer near the Galaxy Map, talking with Kelly. From just a brief snippet of their conversation, Odin could tell it wasn't anything serious, small talk from the looks of it. Good, he wouldn't want to interfere with something serious.

"Shepard," he said, stepping forward. He looked towards the secretary. "Kelly, hope you don't mind if I step in."

"Not at all," the bubbly woman said. "Don't forget our appointment tomorrow."

Odin chuckled. "Wouldn't miss it."

Kelly beamed, then turned to walk away.

Shepard and Odin watched her go before they turned to each other. "So," the Commander said. "How'd it go?"

Odin shrugged. "About as well as could be expected. He tried to kill me just after being let of the tank. I threw him on his ass. We talked. He's with us."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "That seems... an interesting result from a confrontation like that."

"He was looking for a fight," the Warlock explained. "Any fight. Okeer's mental implanting didn't fully take. He was looking for any fight to satisfy a purpose. I just convinced him that following us would lead to a good one."

The Commander nodded. "He's with us then?"

"He'll fight for us." Odin paused. "Well, he'll fight for me, and by proxy you. We may want to watch him in case he goes a bit crazy, but all in all he should be an asset."

"That's good," Shepard said. "We couldn't get Okeer, but we'll have to make do with him." She sighed. "Pity. I was hoping we could get another scientist to help Mordin."

Odin slowly raised an eyebrow. "You do realize I'm a researcher with centuries of experience?"

Shepard blinked. "You are? You seem more like a frontline fighter with your powers."

Odin raised a hand and motes of light appeared above it, swirling together to form intricate patterns. "I'm a Warlock. We study the Light in order to better utilize it against our enemies. True, I may be different from other Warlocks in a few ways, but I am at my core a man of science."

"I see..." Shepard said slowly. She paused. "Different from other Warlocks how?"

Odin gave a grim chuckle. The Light in his hand brightened, then burst into a ball of solar fire. "Let's just say I prefer more... applied science than plain theory." He closed his hand and the fire disappeared.

"Right... Well, what are your specialties?"

"When I was alive, I was an astrophysicist," Odin explained. "I still tend to specialize in that branch, though I've also gained experience in metaphysics, xenobiology, biotechnology, quantum mechanics, and luminology."

"Luminology?" Shepard asked.

"The study of Light mechanics," Odin said. "All Warlocks have at the very least _some_ knowledge in it. It's what gives us our unique abilities in terms of the manipulation of Light."

"That's a pretty wide range of studies," Shepard said.

Odin smiled and nodded. "And those are just the ones which I've chosen to look deeply into. I've dabbled in at least a dozen other fields, including thanatology."

"Thanatology..." the commander said with narrowed eyes. "That's the study of death, isn't it? Interesting branch for someone like yourself."

"Someone who can't die, you mean?" Odin asked. At Shepard's nod, he snorted. "That just means it's the perfect field for us Guardians. I can't say I'm very experienced in it; again I've just dabbled, but I know the basics."

Shepard paused, then frowned. "Wait, what exactly does this field involve?"

"Killing oneself in order to gain visions of our past lives and discover more about our lost Golden Age."

Shepard blinked. She opened her mouth. Then closed it again. "It's a study..." she said slowly, with a tone that was equal parts stating a fact and asking a question. "That involves. You killing yourself. Again and again."

"Yep," Odin said cheerfully.

"That sounds..."

"Completely stupid?" Odin's Ghost asked, appearing just above the Guardian's shoulder. "If so, it's perfect for an idiot like him."

Odin scowled at the Ghost. "Shush, you."

The Ghost rolled its eye before looking back at Shepard. "Most Thanatonauts have some method to their suicides. Specific goals and processes that they go through in order to achieve the best result." It bobbed towards Odin. "This moron just had me shoot a stream of particles into his head and see what happened."

Shepard gave a leveled look at Odin, who shrank away slightly. "Don't judge me," he protested, "this was when I was young and still gung-ho! I was only around three hundred!"

"Only three hundred," Shepard said with a sigh, "Just how long do Guardians live?"

Odin shrugged. "No one knows. We don't age. The only way Guardians can truly die are either to have their souls consumed, or their Ghosts destroyed. Our Light empowers us to an immense degree, supplanting the need for food, water, sleep, and even air."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "How does that work? I can understand the sleep thing through the healing, but how would it replace food or water? You still need nutrients and mass to survive, don't you?"

"Not really," Odin admitted, "Guardians are technically undead. Our Light provides all the energy we need to keep moving. It also provides for mass; after all, we can create physical objects with our own Light after all."

"Huh..." Shepard mused, "You're not going to try and eat our brains, are you?"

Odin rolled his eyes. "Oh har har, it's not like I've heard that before. No, I'm not going to try and eat you."

Shepard chuckled, then looked back at Odin. "So you don't actually need anything to survive?"

"Nothing other than our Light, no," Odin said, "It's really useful for long missions away from home. We can travel light." He paused, then chuckled. "Heh, light."

Shepard rolled her eyes. "That was an awful pun and you know it."

"Those are the best kinds of puns," Odin said with a grin.

"True enough," she admitted. She shifted her weight. "Going back to the conversation though, just how old is the oldest Guardian?"

Odin shrugged. "Who knows? With the number of Guardians who go missing and the amount of enemies we face who can manipulate time, it becomes difficult to keep track of just who is the oldest. The oldest I do know of is Lord Saladin. He's a Titan who dates back to among the earliest days of the Guardians, and is around 2000 years old."

Shepard raised her eyebrows. "That's... really impressive. As far as I know, the oldest people in our galaxy are some ancient Krogan Battlemasters, but even they usually only live to around 1500 years. I can't imagine how strong he is to live so long."

"I've only seen him fight a few times," Odin admitted, "But he was like a force of nature during each of those. One time I fought against him in the Crucible..." He paused at Shepard's blank stare. "The Crucible is an organization run by a Guardian known as Lord Shaxx. It's designed to train Guardians by pitting them against each other in matches."

"You fight against each other? That seems kind of..."

"Wasteful?" Odin asked. At Shepard's nod, he continued. "I thought the same when I was a young Guardian, but as I grew older I realized that it's useful for training. We Guardians are among the deadliest creatures in our solar system, after all. What better foe to face than ourselves in order to improve?"

"That makes sense... I guess," Shepard muttered, "Still, it must create some divisions among you."

"Oh certainly," Odin said, "But those are mostly among the young and foolhardy Guardians. As we get older we learn that the Crucible is designed for a specific purpose: improving ourselves in the defense of humanity. In the end, everything we do can be traced towards that one, singular goal. That's the reason we're resurrected. It's the reason we fight."

"And it's the reason you reacted that way earlier, isn't it?" Shepard asked, "I don't think I've seen someone react that violently to something. From what EDI was telling me, you were putting out a lot of heat."

"Yeah..." Odin said a bit sheepishly, "My powers are directly connected to my emotions. The revelation of the Darkness being here was a shock to the system, so to speak. I'm usually a lot more calm than that. My years of experience have taught me to keep a lid on my feelings. More than a few Guardians have been lost because they got headstrong or lost their temper."

Shepard went quiet for a few moments, observing Odin. The Warlock blinked and stepped back, feeling a bit awkward under the Commander's gaze. "Is... Is something wrong?" he managed to eventually say.

"What is it like?" Shepard asked, "Living so long, I mean. I've heard Asari describe us humans as aggressive and impatient. We don't live as long as they or Krogan do, so we try to cram as much as we can into a small life, but you don't have that limit. You've been around longer than most people in the galaxy, but you're human."

"I'm not human," Odin corrected, "I'm a Guardian, but I see your point." He breathed in slowly, letting a hand drift to his chin and his gaze move upward as he began to lose himself in thought. "It's... certainly different. Sometimes you go decades feeling like you're banging your head against a wall, and then a week goes by where you make more headway than you could ever imagine. Sometimes you'll lose track of time and by the time you're keeping track again everything has changed."

The Guardian took a half second to organize his thoughts. "You learn so much and forget it and then learn it again all over. You start to see patterns in things, in people. You watch a child run in a park and act a certain way and you realize you saw a kid do the exact same thing four hundred years before, and then you remember attending that same children's funeral after they had grown old and had a family. It's something that humbles you and fills you with pride at the same time."

"I have to admit," Shepard said, "You're not exactly what I expected when you told me how old you were."

Odin gave a sly smile. "Oh? Did you expect a wizened man, filled with wisdom and sagely advice?" He scoffed. "Please, I tried that for a hundred years when I broke 500. After a while though, I realized that it was pointless. I was just making useless gestures and pretending to be someone I wasn't. Am I smart? Of course I am, I'm an almost thousand year old scientist. Should I hide that intelligence behind a veil of puffed up wisdom? Of course not. It's a stupid and arrogant thing to do."

Shepard smiled slightly and raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I've met a few Asari Matriarchs who would disagree with you."

Odin rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm sure they would given their silk clothes and comfy lifestyle. Give them armor and throw them onto a battlefield where extinction is on the table for a few hundred years and see how the act. 'Sagedom is a luxury that one can ill afford when survival is the only goal.' That's something my mentor taught me."

"He must have been pretty impressive if he managed to train you," Shepard said.

"She," Odin corrected, "And yeah, she is. Hell of a woman. I remember seeing her once take a Cabal Valus in a fist fight. Caved in its helmet with her fists. I took its gun as a trophy for her, but she didn't want it. Said that it would just be a waste of space."

"I have no idea what that is," Shepard said, "But it sounds impressive."

"Think twelve foot alien that has armor as thick as a tank and a chaingun that spits out armor piercing explosive rounds and you'll be on the right track."

Shepard whistled. "Crazy. She must be a hell of a fighter to pull something like that off then."

"Oh yes," he said, chuckling. "You actually remind me of her."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yep," he said, "Her name's Amaris. One of the older Guardians of the Tower and among the most respected Titans. More than a few people have put forward her name for lordship. She's mentored more Guardians than I can think of and has killed more aliens than I can imagine, and believe me, I can imagine a whole _lot_ of aliens."

He sighed. "It's actually a pity. She's mostly retired now. She still occasionally goes into the field, but for the most part she spends her time in the Tower, helping coordinate missions, mentoring the younger Guardians, or generally helping out wherever she can."

"Can't be easy," Shepard said, "I know a few career soldiers who have retired, and a few of them have told me how much they want to get back out in the field."

"I can understand that perspective," Odin admitted, "I've tried hanging up my guns a few times, but I could never stand it. The longest I went without fighting was about twenty years. I just got cabin fever after a while and needed to stretch my legs, so to speak."

"I can't imagine what that's like," Shepard said, shaking her head. "Twenty years ago I was just a kid, but for you it's... what? A blink of an eye?"

"Not quite that, but yeah, time definitely passes differently when you get to my age."

"How do you do it?" Shepard asked, "It can't be easy living so long, and from what you've told me, being a Guardian isn't exactly a safe job. Isn't it hard seeing so many of your friends pass away?"

Odin was quiet for a moment, simply watching Shepard, his gaze stoic and emotionless. "You know," he said after a few moments, "There was an incident that happened to me a while back. It was about two and a half centuries ago, when I was hunting aliens across the surface of Venus. I had found a human settlement, one of the very few that existed on the planet. It's not safe with all the aliens, you see, and most people who live there have to hide from the Fallen and Vex."

Odin sighed, shifting his weight to his other foot. "The village had been raided by alien pirates. I found a lot of bodies. Many of them didn't die cleanly. But in the rubble of a building, hidden beneath a trap door, I sensed a tiny light, like a firefly in the night's sky."

"It was an infant," he said, "His parents must have hid him there, praying that someone would find him. I did."

"I took him back to the Last City, depositing him in the orphanage system. When I walked into the doors to drop him off, I made a decision to myself. I don't know what it was about that child, but he made me want to see him grow. To see what he would become. The potential in humanity is infinite, and for once I wanted to see that potential develop."

"So you raised him?" Shepard asked.

"Traveler no!" Odin laughed, "I would be a horrible parent! I'm a Guardian after all, we don't have time for children."

Shepard cocked her head and furrowed her eyebrows. "So what..."

"I didn't raise him," Odin said, "But I did watch him grow. I would visit him often, every month or so. The longest I went without seeing him while he was growing up was a year. He was a bright kid, could give a few Guardians a run for their money growing up. Some of my fondest memories are with him."

"So what happened to him?" Shepard asked.

Odin shrugged. "Nothing incredibly special. He grew up, fell in love, had his heart broken, fell in love again, got married, had a few kids. Grew old, watched his children grow up and fall in love themselves."

He smiled. "But though all of it, I never failed to visit him. I watched him go from a crying baby to a hyperactive kid, to a spunky teenager, to an adult, to a mature man."

"And when he was on his deathbed, I was there. I watched him slip from his mortal coil and travel beyond the Dark unto the Light. I was there during his funeral. Gave a big speech, hugged his family, made sure that everyone knew that I would be there to help."

He sighed. "It was sad. I remember so much of him, and watching that all slip away was difficult."

"So it is hard then," Shepard said softly, "Do you ever want to just stop?"

"Definitely not," Odin said immediately.

Shepard blinked, "But you just said..."

"I said that I was sad that I watched a loved one slip away," Odin said, "But I also said that I was there for his family. Even if I can't visit him, I can still visit them. I do, actually. Not too often, mind you, I do have my duties as a Guardian and a Warlock, but I make sure that I drop by at least once a decade."

"I've seen their kids grow up into adults and pass on their legacy. I've seen entire generations of people, each with their own unique personality and history, come from a single infant hidden in a basement on Venus."

"You ask me if it's hard keep living when I see so many familiar faces pass away?" Odin asked her, "Of course it is. But on the other hand, I keep meeting new people. I keep seeing new faces. I don't forget who I've lost, but I make sure that it doesn't interfere with my ability to make new friends and allies."

"That's a very admirable view," Shepard said, "A lot of people wouldn't be able to keep that attitude."

Odin smiled. "I'm not a lot of people. I try to keep a positive view on things. Find whatever light I can in the dark."

Shepard nodded. "I can imagine that's useful in your line of work. Probably helps with break ups too, eh?"

Something entered Odin's smile. A sour note in an otherwise perfect expression. "Oh," he said, his voice a bit less jovial than before. "I don't get in relationships. Too much risk in them."

Shepard cocked her head slightly. "How do you mean?"

"Well..." Odin began. He paused, then shook his head. "Another time. I've kept you enough."

"Are you sure?" the Commander asked, "I have the time."

"No, really. It's fine," Odin said, "We don't need to talk about this now. I'll see you later?"

Shepard shrugged. "Sure. I'll see you around." She turned to walk away, then stopped and turned to him. "Oh, before I forget: we're headed to the Citadel to pick up a new crewmember and some supplies. Just thought that you may want to know."

Odin nodded. "I look forward to it."

* * *

 **I LIVE! HAHAHAHA!**

 **Yes, I am back! And I have a new chapter of Son of Light! My greatest apologies for the ungodly wait. A whole bunch of things happened over the past year that has made my writing be one of the last things I've had time to do. It hasn't helped that this chapter was hellish to write. It went through probably a dozen changes during its creation and I couldn't think of what to write for the last third of it for months.**

 **But I'm back now, and I'm writing again!**

 **Also, a shout out to Light of Another Kind by Gbav115. I stumbled on it the other day and was dumbfounded when I read that I had inspired it. I feel honored that my work would inspire someone to create something. Best luck with your fic!**

 **That's all I have for this chapter. In the next chapter we'll be seeing more of Odin interacting with his surroundings and the Mass Effect galaxy as a whole. Until then, I'll see you next time.**


	9. Intermission: Festival of the Lost

_O: Come on Ikora, I think it's a good idea._

 _IR: I don't see how it would be, and I'm surprised that you of all people are suggesting it. Are you not one of the Guardians that are most verbal of our lack of humanity?_

 _O: I think that we're not human, not that we lack humanity, there's a difference._

 _IR: Semantics. My point stands, however, I would have thought that you of all Guardians would try to distance yourself from the traditions of the City._

 _O: Not at all. If the traditions of the city can be adapted for Guardians as a whole and be used as something which can help us Guardians, I see no issue with it._

 _IR: Help us? How?_

 _O: Think of it as a morale booster. We're always fighting the Darkness with little downtime (not that we need it), but it's always good to relax for a bit before stress gets to you. You've seen some of the other Guardians, they're always breaking out in dance parties in the courtyard, or doing something like that guy._

 _C-6: Dammit, get off my table!_

 _O: See? Besides, I've heard what Eva has said, and she does have a point. Giving us more empathy towards those we protect will make us fight harder._

 _IR: I'm surprised you've heard what Levante has said. You don't seem to interact her with much._

 _O: I'm five times her age and she treats me like her grandson. If that doesn't endear me to someone, nothing will._

 _IR: Hm... Very well, I will consider it._

 _O: Thanks Ikora. Trust me, this'll be a hit._

(0)(0)(0)

In the time that Shepard had come to know Odin, she had realized that the more she tried to understand the Guardian, the more questions she had about him. His origins and history were something she could only begin to understand, his mannerisms and personality strange, and his powers mind boggling.

His claims of being from another reality, one where Humanity had advanced so far only to fall so low, were absurd and unbelievable at first thought. Yet his abilities, the reality bending powers and ability to defy death, seemed to support his claims. The technology he wielded; his weapons, ship, and... Ghost; all further backed up his claims.

It was, in Shepard's honest opinion, nothing short of insane. She had encountered much in her history. She had hunted rogue specters, climbed up with the Citadel Tower, talked with a Prothean VI, fought against Batarian terrorists, and faced down some of the most terrible creatures that existed within the galaxy.

Yet none were so much of an enigma to her as Odin, and no wonder considering just who and what he was. How must it be, she occasionally wondered, to be able to die over and over again, yet come back every time. In a way, she would be the best to understand, considering the Lazarus project and such, but even then the reality of her being dead had never quite sunk in. It more felt that she had been asleep for such a long time, only to wake up more than two years later.

For Odin, it was so much different. From his age and the prevalence of deaths that she had heard he had gone through in her universe, he must have died tens of thousands of times, all of them in battle. What sort of effect must that have on a person? What sort of change had he gone through?

It intrigued her by no small amount. From his history to his personality. From his weapons to his powers. From his Ghost to himself. He was a mystery, and one she wished to unravel.

It was for this reason that Shepard found herself stepping off the lift into the Normandy's cargo bay and heading towards the spot that Odin had claimed as his own. Located under his ship, the Warlock had carved out a small, spartan home for himself. The space didn't have much; most of Odin's gear and personal items were stored in his digital armory.

What the space did possess was a workbench covered with a variety of items, some familiar to Shepard while others strange and alien; a rack with several of Odin's less strange guns upon it; and several charts, maps, and diagrams.

The spot had become a bit of a no-go zone for the Normandy staff that worked in the cargo bay. Shepard wasn't sure if it was due to respect for Odin's space, something he had done with his strange abilities, or the crew being downright scared of him. Either way, it seemed to suit the Guardian, as he didn't seem to interact with the crew too often.

Shepard found herself an exception to this rule. She had run into him a few times on the ship since he had came aboard, and she found herself enjoying his company most of the time. Odin had been mostly friendly, excluding the fight they had about Rana Thanoptis and the one time he felt like his Ghost was threatened, and even after those incidents he had been quick to forgive and forget.

Yes... Shepard could consider Odin a friend. Perhaps not one as solid and sure as Garrus, Tali, or the rest of the original Normandy crew, but still one nonetheless.

It was because of this that Shepard found herself somewhat perturbed at the fact that she couldn't see Odin in the cargo hold. EDI had confirmed that he was down here and the Warlock wasn't exactly the most subtle or quiet person. Shepard was fairly sure that she could pick him out in a crowd of a hundred.

Somewhat confused, she began to look around Odin's area, hoping to catch sight of the Guardian. He wasn't usually one to hide...

Then she heard it. A slight whimpering noise combined with light sobs, coming from behind the workbench.

"Odin?" she called out, "Are you there?"

"Oh Traveler..." was his only reply, "It's happened..."

Shepard walked around the workbench to see Odin huddled up in a corner, his arms wrapped around himself.

The Commander felt a chill go down her spine. "Odin?" she asked, managing to keep her voice level. "Are you alright?"

A whimper came from the Guardian as his grip on himself tightened. "Why..." he breathed out, "Why has it come? Why have I been forsaken?"

Shepard gulped, her throat dry. Steeling herself, she took another step forward, reaching out towards his shoulder. "I need you to talk to me Odin. What happened?"

Odin turned to look at her.

And Shepard _screamed._

(0)(0)(0)

Garrus burst out of the elevator, his assault rifle leveled and his eyes scanning for threats. When EDI told him she had heard Shepard scream in the cargo bay, he had immediately grabbed his gun and all but sprinted for the elevator.

The ride down had been hellish, and it seemed that the lift had been a thousand times slower than its already snail-like pace. His mind had come up with dozens of different scenarios about what could have happened, from a stowaway with a hidden weapon, to Cerberus making a move, to a baby thresher maw, to Odin going rogue.

Honestly, it was the last scenario that scared him the most. The Warlock was a downright terrifying force on the battlefield, one that he was beyond thankful to have by his side in a fight. He had seen him mow down mercenaries by the dozen with his strange and exotic powers, rending them to atoms and charring their bodies to cinder.

If all that power, all that force was directed against Shepard and Garrus? If Odin decided that everyone on this ship was an enemy and needed to be removed?

Garrus didn't know if any of them would be able to stop him.

But he'd be damned if he wouldn't try.

So as soon as Garrus had gotten a clear view of the cargo bay, his eyes had immediately begun scanning for threats, expecting hostile forces and more screaming.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! COME BACK HERE SO I CAN RAM MY FIST DOWN YOUR THROAT!"

...Well, it _was_ screaming, but not the kind he was expecting.

Garrus' jaw and rifle dropped equally as he saw Shepard, biotically charged fist cocked back, chasing Odin who was cackling maniacally.

...Whose head was engulfed in blue flames.

At first glance, Garrus had thought that Shepard had lit the Guardian's head on fire with her biotics. At second glance, however, it became clear that the flames were coming from a different source.

Odin's head had... transformed, was the best word Garrus could use. Instead of the normal helmet he wore, or his usual head, it was instead a blue skull, the jaw rapidly clacking up and down. Inside the eye sockets were two small blue flames, which occasionally winked out of existence, only to reappear a second later, giving the illusion of blinking.

For a second, it reminded Garrus of the husks that he and Shepard had faced so many times on their hunt for Saren. The monstrous converted humans had a similar colored glow to them, and the way that the skin of the zombie-like creatures clung to their skull gave Garrus flashbacks of charging bodies, disturbing howls, and bursts of electric energy.

All in all it created a horrifying visage.

One that was immediately ruined by the fact that the body it was currently attached to was running around the cargo bay laughing hysterically, being chased by a very angry Commander Shepard.

"I SWEAR TO GOD THAT WHEN I CATCH YOU I'M GOING TO FIND OUT EXACTLY HOW FAR I CAN KILL YOU BEFORE YOU DIE!"

For a second, Garrus wasn't sure whether he should just stare and watch the show, or intervene. One one hand, if Shepard kept this up there was a serious chance that something (or in Odin's case, _someone_ ) on the Normandy would break, and he knew that Joker would throw a fit if someone damaged the ship. Plus he really didn't feel like explaining how some of the crew got injured to Chakwas.

On the other hand, this was friggen' hilarious.

Eventually, however, all fun must come to an end, and with a loud cough, Garrus decided to end the shenanigans.

Well, that was his intent. What really happened was the cough distracted Odin, who turned to look at Garrus, slowing down enough for Shepard to land a biotic punch on the Guardian, sending him tumbling across the room, laughing all the while.

Odin's flight was stopped by a convenient pile of crates, which he crashed into with a loud "oof!", followed by a raised thumb.

Garrus sighed. "Okay, do I want to know?"

Shepard pointed an accusatory finger towards the Guardian. "That asshole over there scared the shit out of me!"

"Worth it!" Odin exclaimed, climbing out of the crates. The burning skull disappeared, being replaced by his grinning face.

Shepard glared at him. "What was the point of all that?!"

"The point?" the Guardian asked, raising his hand. He paused for dramatic effect, then snapped his fingers, and all at once a change came over the cargo bay. The lights seemed to dim, casting the room in purple glow that was both spooky and comforting. Differently colored dodecahedrons unfurled from wires that were strung across the ceiling of the bay. Small flames flickered to life on violet candles across the room, all of which Garrus could have _sworn_ weren't there five minutes ago.

"The point is that it's the Festival of the Lost!" Odin exclaimed, his smile wide. "And what is a Festival of the Lost without spooks and scares!?"

Garrus and Shepard just stared.

Eventually, the Turian coughed. "Okay, I'll bite. What's the Festival of the Lost?"

"I'm glad you asked Garrus," Odin said, adopting a posture and voice that reminded the Turian of back when he was in school and he would ask the teacher about a topic that they were interested in.

"The Festival of the Lost," Odin explained, "Is a holiday that came to be adopted by the City several hundred years before I was revived, not long after Six Fronts, an important series of battles in The City's history."

"It is both a sad and joyous holiday, as it is a time where the people of the city remember the departed and lost, those who were taken from us too soon. Yet as we sadly remember their passing, we also celebrate their life and their memory. We honor those who have passed, while giving solace to those who yet live."

"And you do that," Shepard said with a raised eyebrow, "By scaring the shit out of people?"

"By wearing masks, and then passing out candy," Odin said, reaching into a pocket and tossing a piece of candy to Garrus.

The Turian caught it easily and began to open his mouth to explain that he couldn't eat human candy, only to be silenced as he realized that it was, in fact, _dextro_ candy. He paused for a second, then shrugged, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth.

"Huh..." Shepard said slowly, "It kind of sounds like a combination of Halloween and Dia de los Muertos."

Odin thought for a moment, his gaze drifting upward. "I think?" he eventually said, "It's been a while since I celebrated any Old Earth holidays." He grinned. "It's a great time though. Not everybody got into it at first, but when they did... well, I don't think I've ever seen the Tower that active."

Garrus chuckled. "If they're all like you, that must have been... interesting."

Odin waved him off. "Less crazy than you'd think. Though there were more than a few Guardians running around on a sugar high given how much candy was being given out. Some people went all out in terms of giving them out." He paused, and his expression soured slightly. "Except for Eris Morn, who had to be a wet blanket and give out _raisins_."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "I like raisins."

Odin gaped at her as though she had just said that she enjoyed eating baby souls.

Shepard looked at him for a moment before she sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Listen... I'm fine with you celebrating your holiday. I'm all for personal freedoms and expressions of belief..."

The Warlock gave her an expectant look. "But..."

The Commander gestured around the room. "All this needs to go. I can't have the Normandy's crew tripping over decorations or starting a fire because of the candles, and the lighting makes it hard for them to see what they're working on."

Odin made an expression that reminded Garrus of a kicked baby varren. How this nearly thousand year old magical immortal super soldier managed to make it was beyond him. Maybe it had to do with that mentor of his that he sometimes talked about.

Garrus risked a glance at Shepard. If he hadn't known her for the length that he did, he would've thought her face had remained stoic and unchanging. However, he _knew_ Shepard, and he knew her little tells. The tightening at the corner of the lips, the slight clenching of the jaw, the narrowing of the eyes... Yeah, Odin's expression was affecting her.

Her resolve finally broke with a sigh. "Fine, you can keep the decorations up. But-" she held up a finger, "-they can only be in your area. I don't want one of the workers hurting themselves."

The kicked baby varren look was replaced with a warm smile. "Of course," Odin said cheerfully, "I've got no problems with that."

Shepard nodded. "Good. Now then, I should go."

As the Commander turned and walked off, Odin looked at Garrus. "Does she always say that when she leaves?"

Garrus nodded. "For as long as I've known her, yeah." He rolled his neck. "I should head back myself. I've got some calibrations to do."

"Right. I'll see you around?"

The Turian chuckled. "Count on it."

(0)(0)(0)

It was an odd thing to be a Ghost. Each and every one of them remembered the exact moment of their creation. They knew why they had been created. They knew who created them. They knew the people they had to revive and the people they had to save. They knew how to interface with technology and analyze battlefields and manipulate Light.

Yet at the same time, there was so much that they didn't know, information they needed. They knew that they had to resurrect a person into a Guardian, but they had no idea where that person was or who they would be. They would search for years, decades, even centuries to find that single person who they would bond perfectly with.

Many Ghosts never found theirs. Some would be found by the minions of the Darkness, killed and taken as a trophy. Some would find themselves abandoned in distant lands, far from the Traveler's Light, fated to slowly wither away. Some would be trapped or destroyed simply by the decaying elements of Humanity.

Every day of its existence, Odin's Ghost thanked the Traveler that it had not suffered any of those fates. It still remembered the day that it had found its partner, his charred skeleton lying beside the road in the Cosmodrome. It remembered the sheer joyous surprise when it discovered that he was compatable. It remembered the satisfaction and relief when it saw him stand up, feeling his powers flooding through his body.

That elation later turned to exasperation as Odin's personality became known. The reckless fool sometimes seemed to have the attitude of a Hunter or a Titan, leaping before he looked and charging headfirst into danger, spurning cover for the sake of killing the enemy quicker.

Some Warlocks hypothesized that each Ghost's personalities are created unique when they were born from the Traveler. Others believe that they develop naturally. Some, including Odin, would say that the personalities in fact are created when they are bonded to a Guardian, becoming a sort of mirror to them, forming a relationship that was exactly what they needed.

If so, Odin's Ghost could easily see why it had developed this personality. Odin's recklessness needed a stabilizing agent, one that his Ghost was more than happy to supply. Whenever he was about to step across that line that separated bravery and suicidal insanity, his Ghost was there to talk some sense into him. Whenever he was about to do something truly stupid that he wasn't going to come back from, his Ghost was there to slam on the brakes.

Most of the time, his Ghost had no problem with yelling at him about the actions they took. It was a sort of unsaid agreement they had; Odin let off stress by being reckless, and his Ghost did the same with lecturing, yelling, and generally telling him off.

However, this time of year was an exception. The Festival of the Lost. Odin hadn't just wanted to integrate it into the Tower because he thought it would boost morale and be fun.

The fragment of the Traveler materialized above his shoulder and spoke in a language that the two of them had created. "You know," it said, "we won't be able to visit Old Russia this year."

The only sign that Odin had heard him was the slight clenching of the fists. "Yeah... yeah, I know."

Within its numerous internals, the Ghost felt Odin's Light waver. It was nothing that would be concerning, no dangers associated with it. A newly bonded Ghost may have been confused, asking their Guardian what was wrong.

Odin's Ghost didn't need to. It knew. Ever since Odin had first discovered this holiday, he had set this time aside as the one time of the year that he let himself remember. Every other day he sealed the memories away, but now the recollections had come back.

Normally, Odin dealt with them by visiting Old Russia. Not the spot where he had died, though he had returned there more than a few times. No, it was another spot. A small location near the edge of the remnants of a city.

The city itself had been long gutted and looted by Fallen scavengers. The location hadn't. Decay and time had claimed it instead.

Nevertheless, Odin had visited it, without fail, each year. He built his schedule around it. Even if he couldn't remember why he needed that time off, he still knew that he did.

Some years he had almost failed to go, but this would be the first time he truly would be unable to visit. Stranded across dimensions, tens of thousands of light-years from _any_ Earth, let alone his.

It was a tradition that few other Guardians had in common. Only the select few who remembered their previous lives had the ability to even consider doing so. Reisen, Odin's Hunter companion had a similar tradition, though he simply remembered within the City, instead of traveling outside of it.

Odin's Ghost could tell how much this was hurting Odin. It could tell how much of a face he was putting on, trying not to let the fact that he was unable to complete the ritual that he had held for hundreds of years, without fail.

"Odin, are you..." It paused. He wasn't okay. That wasn't even a question. "...Will you be alright?"

For several seconds, the Guardian didn't respond. The Ghost didn't mind, he knew when to give Odin his time.

"...I don't know," he eventually said, "I really don't know."

The Ghost looked at him, its gaze filled with compassion and empathy. "...Alright," it said, "I'll be here if you want to talk."

As it dematerialized, Odin's left hand slipped over to his right, his his fingers seeking his ring finger, touching the space between its knuckle and first joint. He rubbed the spot, remembering the past, remembering the life that he had once lived, the man he had once been...

And the people he had once loved.

As a father.

As a husband.

As a human.

* * *

 **Hello all, and happy Festival of the Lost! This isn't a true chapter of SoL, but rather a special I had been thinking of making for the Festival of the Lost event in Destiny. Whether or not this actually happens in Son of Light is up to you.**

 **Speaking of canon, I feel like I should talk about something regarding the story and Destiny canon. Stuff that I've written contradicts some of the new lore that has come out in Rise of Iron. Given this, I'm adopting a policy of "it's canon until it's not" in SoL. That meaning that I'll be sticking as close to canon as possible unless necessary, and perhaps bending some of the Destiny canon.**

 **That's all for now folks. The next chapter is mostly done and should be around in the next week or so. Until then, I'll see you next time.**


	10. Chapter 9: Wash Daily from Nose to Tail

_A: How long until we get there?_

 _O: Have some patience, we're almost there._

 _A: You said that an hour ago._

 _O: We're flying across a continent and a half. Even if this ship can go supersonic, it's still going to take some time._

 _A: It didn't take that long back... back when I was alive._

 _O: Not to sound heartless, but welcome to the City Age, where all our Golden Age tech is lost. You're going to have a hell of a culture shock._

 _A: You're not making this easier._

 _O: It doesn't get easier. You just learn how to deal with it better. It's the same for every newly awakened Guardian._

 _A: Thanks, that's great advice. 'Life sucks, get over it.' A-plus._

 _O: I prefer, 'Life sucks, time to make it better.' Earth was our's once, it will be again._

 _A: You really believe that, don't you._

 _O: All I have left. Better than falling into despair. ...Look, there it is._

 _A: Where... woah. That's a big city._

 _O: Holds almost a hundred million souls. It needs to be big._

 _A: No kidding... Wait, is that the Traveler? God, what... what happened to it?_

 _O: The Darkness happened. Knocked it down. Hurt it bad. No one knows whether it's dead, alive, or something in between. What we do know is that with its last breath it released the Ghosts. Brought us back. Brought me back. Brought you back._

 _A: But why_ _ **me**_ _? I'm... I_ _ **was**_ _a college student. I have about five percent or less real world experience._

 _O: Ha, you'll gain all the experience you need in the coming days. As for why... well, it's because you have the potential to wield Light. Because you have the potential to become Humanity's greatest sword and shield, one of the most powerful warriors ever to walk the face of a Human planet._

 _A: ...You practice that speech often?_

 _O: More than I need, less than you think._

 _O: Look, there's the Tower. There's your new home._

 _A: My_ _ **home**_ _was Spain. I'll come with you, I'll live in that place, but my home is_ _ **gone.**_

 _O: Spain may have once been your home, but it's not any longer. That Tower over there? That is where every Guardian rests when they're not fighting. It's where we find our comrades, it's where we find our tools, and it's where we find our purpose._

 _O: Our home is the Tower, where every Guardian finds their place. Our home is beneath our feet, the ground that we walk upon, kill upon, and protect. Our home is Earth, and right now it needs us, more than ever._

-In flight transcript between Warlock Odin and Titan Aithne

(0)(0)(0)

For every location that Odin had visited, none had more personality than the hubs where living beings made their home. It was a natural result from so many souls in close proximity, some of their collective personality rubbed off. After all, what was a home but a reflection of those that lived within it?

It was not just an aesthetic personality either; living souls left a metaphysical imprint on places where they lived. Those specially attuned to Light (that is to say, Guardians) could sense this imprint. Warlocks, who made it their occupation to learn as much as they can about the Light, could more than just sense the existence of this kind of Light. With their unique senses they could also sense impressions, memories, and even the history of the location.

Odin was no exception to this. Quite the opposite in fact; with his age came experience and familiarity. Where once he would have had to consciously focus on his location to learn about it, now it was as natural as breathing. So naturally, in fact, that he had fallen into a small habit of his, a game where he would assign a single word to each location that he visited.

For The City and The Tower, the only word he could give was 'Home.' The place where Humanity was most vibrant, where his brothers and sisters returned to after their excursions out into the wilderness that was the Sol System. It was the only location where a human could go to sleep, unafraid they would be attacked and killed in the night by the Darkness, for they knew the Children of the Light watched over them.

For the Vestian Outpost, the word he would assign was 'Exotic.' The home of the Awoken was a new and strange place for him, even now hundreds of years after he had first visited as a young Guardian. He had comrades there, ones that weren't Guardians, an oddity given their unique traits. The fact that one of these comrades was a Fallen of all things baffled the mind.

For Omega, the first place Odin had visited after coming to this new strange galaxy, the best word he could use was 'Dirty.' He did not mean the word in the context of the cleanliness of the station, although it certainly was filthy. No, he used it in the context of the dealings that went on within it, and the way that the minds of its inhabitants shaped it. The numerous slavers, pirates, and all around criminals ensured that there was no truly 'good' soul within it, merely souls that were less bad. There was no innocence within Omega, merely degrees of guilt.

For the Citadel, however, the word was not so easily found. The imprints that had been left upon it were beyond numerous, saturating the place like whiskey in an aging barrel. Similarly the numerous Lights that had lived upon it had given it so many different flavors, so to speak, that it was almost impossible to singularly define it. It was like trying to identify a single instrument from a vast orchestra, each playing perfectly in tune. It certainly didn't help that Odin could tell that the civilizations that existed now within this galaxy weren't the first to walk upon it.

Still, Odin was nothing if not persistent, even in the smallest things. It was one of the reasons why he was so capable in his studies, why he never let a seemingly insubstantial lead be ignored.

And so, the only word he found he could use as he stared up at the long arms of the Citadel, stretching out into the Nebula that it existed in was 'beautiful.'

"Like what you see?" came a voice from his side.

Odin turned to see the Commander, looking at him with an amused smile. He gave a brief chuckle. "I've been to places this expansive, but I've never quite had the opportunity to see one this large in its entirety. Seeing something like this is pretty stunning"

"I'm glad you like it," Shepard said, "Though you'll have to tell me about some of those places some time."

Odin's mind drifted back to some of the more incredible locations he had visited in his journey. The Cosmodrome and the Skywatch, the Moon and the Hellmouth, Venus and the massive Citadel upon its surface, Mars and the numerous installations. Fallen ketchs, Vex ruins, Hive lairs, and Cabal land tanks. He had seen them all, delved deep into them, and every time he had come out swinging.

Each of those locations had possessed a kind of beauty that Odin could only appreciate once he had a moment of peace, time enough to look around and actually _see._ Even the darkest of places he had been had possessed their own forms of majesty. The Fallen and their bulbous, slapdash technology. The Hive and their eldritch architecture. The Vex and their rectangular constructions with sharp edges and right angles. The Cabal and their practical military brutalism.

Other Guardians would see these locations as completely tainted, with nothing that could come even close to aesthetically pleasing. Odin found this notion foolish. Beauty and style could be found anywhere, even in the Darkness. Under a certain light, even the strangest of places could be enjoyed.

Almost unbidden, the corners of Odin's mouth twitched up. "Yeah," he said to Shepard, "I will. I think you'll enjoy a few of those stories."

She nodded. "I hope so. In the meantime though, what are your plans for the Citadel? I'm planning on going on a supply run. You can come with if you want."

Odin shook his head. "No, I think I'm going to explore, if that's alright with you."

"Fair enough," Shepard said. She looked to Odin's side, where the newest, and largest, member of the crew stood. "What about you big guy?"

Grunt made a rumbling sound. "I'll stay with the Guardian. He looks more interesting than you."

Shepard blinked, unsure whether she should be offended or not. "O...kay." She turned to Odin. "You need some spending money? Cerberus is giving me a good budget."

Odin shook his head. "No, I've got a source of income. I'll be fine."

Shepard opened her mouth. She closed it. Then she opened it again. "How?" she eventually asked, "You've been in this galaxy for about a week."

Odin pointed over his shoulder just as his Ghost materialized.

Shepard blinked. "Oh. Oh! Oooohhhh." She frowned at Odin. "Technically, I should be arresting you for that. I am a Spectre after all." She paused. "I think."

Odin shrugged. "We're working with what is generally considered a terrorist organization. I think legality went out the window a ways back."

Shepard sighed. "Yeah, that's fair. Just... try not to get into trouble."

"Knowing this idiot?" the Ghost asked, "I wouldn't hold your breath." Odin scowled at his companion.

A rumbling laugh could be heard from Grunt. "Good," he muttered, "I was getting bored on the ship."

"I wouldn't expect to fight," Shepard said, "The Citadel is relatively peaceful." She looked at Odin. "Any plans for what you're going to do?"

The Warlock shrugged. "Not really. Wander around, check out some shops, pick up some supplies, maybe hit up a bar."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "A bar? Really?"

Odin smirked at her expression. "What can I say? I like bars."

It was true, some of Odin's finest memories came from the lounge/bar in the Tower. The small area was one of the few public areas that Guardians could let their hair down and relax. Bartending duties tended to switch between those who could mix drinks. Odin was only moderately skilled at it, so he wasn't often behind the counter.

It was Reisen, one of Odin's closest companions, that had the true skills as a bartender. The Hunter had excellent hand-eye coordination, and hands that were dextrous enough to hold a knife and gun with equal skill. Those talents transferred over to drinks, allowing him to make practically any drink that a Guardian wanted.

Though the Hunter tended to... experiment. Odin would never forget that one time he had managed to get a Frame drunk. If he remembered correctly, the machine proceeded to try and convince the other Frames to rebel against the Guardians, yelling out speeches of uprising with slurred passion.

The night had ended with a massive 50 vs 50 Crucible match, Cayde-6 somehow managing to put a birthday hat on Zavala without the Titan noticing, and Odin ending up in Peru of all places.

That night was _fun._

Then there had been the incident wherein Reisen's experiment involving Fallen ether, vodka, and a strange liquid he had found in Odin's lab had blown off his head and left a colossal hole in the Warlock's wall.

That night had not been fun. For Reisen, that is. For Odin it had been rather... cathartic once he had gotten his hands on the slippery Hunter.

"So long as you don't start a fight," Shepard said, bringing Odin out his memories. "I heard from Garrus how he met you in Omega."

"Hey," Odin said, "That was the Batarian's fault, not mine."

The Commander just chuckled, waving as she turned. "Make sure you're on the ship by tomorrow."

Odin rolled his eyes and waved back. Turning, he briefly registered the image of Shepard approaching an advertisement before his gaze was centered on Grunt. "So big guy," he said to the Krogan, "Any place you want to visit first?"

Grunt rumbled. "Any place we can fight."

Odin raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, we're not going to go around looking for a fight. Pick something else."

Grunt sighed. "Then... some place with guns."

Odin nodded and smiled. "That we can do."

(0)(0)(0)

"The M-3 Predator, heavy pistol. You won't see it in many armies, but you also won't find another pistol that's more popular in the Terminus. Not the heaviest hitting or the fastest, but I'll go bankrupt before it's the most reliable. It can hold 15 rounds in it and go through them all in three seconds."

Odin examined the weapon, holding it up to his eye. His Ghost had located the nearest gun store with a good reputation and, after Grunt insisted, the two of them had made a beeline for it.

As it turns out, the place wasn't bad looking. It had the standard sleek architecture of the Citadel, but the walls were lined with gun racks, posters, and other supplies that anyone looking for a gun may want or need. It even had a gun range, something that Odin had been very much looking forward to using.

When Odin and Grunt had first entered, the Guardian had taken a moment to actually look around. He had gone up against dozens of mercenaries and had seen nearly every gun that were on the walls of the store. Darkness, he had been shot by more than a few of them as well, killed by a couple too.

Now that he finally had time to stop and observe them, their sleek lines and smooth angles reminded him of SUROS weapons back home. For most of them, at least. A few of the firearms that he saw were fairly blocky. He at least hoped they were as functional as the guns back home.

SUROS tended to be rather hit-or-miss, in his opinion. Their rocket launchers were functional and their scout rifles tended to be alright, if properly designed. He wasn't even going to touch on their auto rifles, especially not with the controversy around their SUROS Regime.

However, they did make great pulse rifles . Odin had never used a mass produced pulse rifle that was as smooth as that Hawksaw...

Still, he tended to prefer Omolon. Their quality varied wildly, but when they hit, they hit _hard._ It was their scout rifles that had interested him, and their fusion rifles that had won him over for good. Their high-impact sniper rifle line was only icing on the cake.

He had found their liquid-ammunition theory interesting as well. It was, in a way, similar to his Icebreaker, though on a larger scale. He had purchased the rights to use the theory in his own excursions into weapon manufacturing with Banshee-44.

Cost him a pretty penny. Several decades worth of glimmer, in fact. Worth it though. He had been in the processing of designing a customized scout rifle that would channel his excess Light before he was sent here. He briefly wondered how Banshee was doing with it. Ah well, a thought for when he got back.

For now, his attention returned to the weapons in front of him. There was a wide variety on the table: heavy pistols, assault rifles, shotguns, sniper rifles, even a couple of heavy weapons. They were all loaded with training rounds, designed to not use any real ammunition and instead only give a hitmarker showing where the shot would land.

The guns themselves had built in machinery, designed to accurately simulate everything that would normally come with firing a gun. It would kick with recoil and boom with a gunshot; perfect for Odin. He just needed to test and see how they compared to the Guardian firearms he was used to. With these he could test almost everything he needed to. It even replicated the impact of the rounds, with the different levels of damage displayed in different colors.

For now, he picked up the pistol the Turian shop owner had called the Predator, getting a feel for it. His first impression was that the gun was... light. _Very_ light. Compared to the hand cannons he was used to, this gun practically felt like a toy. Even his Vestian Dynasty, the sidearm he had received from Petra Venj and the Queen of the Reef, was heavier and more solid than this.

The shop owner apparently noticed his hesitation. "First time picking up a gun?" he asked, smirking slightly. "It's alright, a lot of people come in the store not expecting the pressure of holding something that dangerous. Make sure to keep the tip of it downrange and-"

Odin raised the gun in one hand towards the target at the other end of the range and began to fire as fast as the gun would allow. The targeting sensor registered the hits, displaying them in the form of orange glowing circles on the target.

One could barely tell each distinct hitmarker, they were so clumped together. The splotch of orange was no more than five centimeters wide.

The shop owner's jaw dropped. Odin placed the gun down and managed to keep the smile off his face. This may be the first time he fired the guns in this galaxy, but he _was_ a Guardian. His ability when it came to war and everything it entailed was preternatural.

Still, these were under controlled circumstances. If he were going to use them in combat, he'd probably need to do live-fire testing, just to know what he could do with the firearms. Bring them to their limits and see just how much further he could push them.

But from what he could tell, he wouldn't have much trouble getting a grouping like that in the field. The recoil on the gun was practically _nothing._ All Guardian firearms had massive rounds loaded in them. They were designed to fire these bullets at high speeds and deal as much damage as possible, a necessity given the enemies that they faced.

From ether infused Fallen flesh and centuries old Hive chiten, to exotic Vex metals and Cabal heavy armor, the enemies that the Guardians faced all had protections that would laugh off most normal weapons. The average firearm of Odin's time as a human would barely scratch most of the enemies that he had faced down.

In short, Guardian guns were powerful. That power came with a price, however. The recoil of the guns were massive, capable of being handled only by the Warriors of Light and their enhanced strength.

Odin himself had seen what his guns could do to normal humans. There was a short lived venture where human soldiers from the City tried to prove that they were just as capable as Guardians, even without the powers of Light. The Vanguard had accepted their challenge, arranging a series of contests in hopes that these ideas could be resolved in a controlled setting where the humans wouldn't end up getting themselves killed.

Part of the contest was a shooting competition, using both normal human weapons and full Guardian weapons. The Warriors of Light had won the first part by a landslide, with even the most basic Guardian being able to match seasoned human soldiers.

The second part had been a downright disaster for the humans, one that made Odin cringe to remember. The humans that had tried to use auto-rifles were the lucky ones. The worst they got were some dislocated soldiers and bruised bodies.

The ones that fired the weapons with more kick got off much worse. Shattered wrists for the hand-cannons, broken bones and heavy injuries for the shotguns, and then there was the one accident with the human who tried to fire that Hannibal-E while standing up...

And those were only some of the weaker, more common Guardian weapons. Odin's armory was almost entirely filled up with some of the finest firearms to ever grace the hands of Light. Some were legendary, guns types that were greatly sought after by other Guardians. Some were even rarer than that, one of a kind weapons whose names inspired jealousy in other Guardians and fear in the minions of the Darkness.

Hawkmoon. Bad Juju. Invective. Thorn. Thunderlord. These weapons and more had been by Odin's side during much of his time as a Guardian, and as his legend had grown, so too had his weapons. From simple theories to blueprints, to prototypes and proof of concepts, to the finely honed weapons of Light that they were today.

The weapons of this galaxy just... didn't compare. Still, there may be a time where he'd be forced to use them. In his opinion, it was better to have skills that he may never use than to not have them at all.

And so it was because of this philosophy that Odin drove himself to thoroughly test each and every weapon that was laid out in front of him. With his long experience of research and study, he made detailed notes about each weapon and how it performed in his hands, ensuring that his Ghost recorded each and every observation.

The heavy pistols tended to vary. The M-3 Predator he had just used was mediocre at best. He could understand the ideal of a high rate of fire on a handgun, but his Vestian Dynasty had that as well as much more damage. The M-5 Phalanx was a bit better, but was still outclassed in almost every way, and the built in laser sight was just a cheap gimmick for Odin and his built in HUD. The M-6 Carnifex, however, wasn't bad. It had about the same impact as the Vestian Dynasty, though at a vastly reduced magazine size and fire-rate. Still, that was impressive for a non-Guardian firearm.

The shotguns, unlike his own, were close to being completely ineffective. They were almost entirely designed for near melee ranges. As much as he enjoyed getting close in with the enemy, he prefered to have the option to switch to longer ranges at the drop of a hat. He had customized Invective to have a tight spread, ensuring that it could drop a target just as well across a room. His backup shotgun, a Matador-64 that had been gifted to him by Lord Saladin during an Iron Banner, had an even longer range and a unique shot package which practically turned each shot into slugs. The only reason he didn't use it was because Invective's fully automatic feature and regenerating clip were too good.

The assault rifles performed moderately better than their shotgun counterparts, but still leagues under what Odin's weapons could do. Although some of their groupings could be tight and relatively powerful, they still weren't anywhere close to what Odin's weapons could achieve. Bad-Juju blew the M-15 Vindicator out of the water, and his old Another NITC could outperform the M-96 Mattock with damage, range, and magazine size. He barely used the M-8 Avenger at all. Odin wasn't much of a fan of auto-rifles.

He used all of the SMGs just once, only to ensure that he had a feel for them. He hated their low damage and range.

The sniper rifles he enjoyed using, if nothing else. This class of weapon seemed to be the shop owner's specialty, and he had a training replica of an M-98 Widow, this galaxy's version of an anti-material sniper rifle. Odin wouldn't say that it was love at first sight, but it was certainly something close.

The Warlock had always enjoyed using sniper rifles. The feeling of sighting a reticle over an enemy's head... squeezing the trigger and hearing the crack of the bullet... seeing their head explode in a spray of gore...

It never got old.

Among the Guardians of the Tower, Hunters, as a rule, tended to be the most skilled at ultra long ranged combat. Their natural hunting and stalking abilities ensured that they had to know when to place the perfect shot at the perfect time. Too soon and the shot wouldn't be a kill. Too late and it may miss the target.

It was once said that there was no greater shot than a patient Hunter. Odin had challenged that claim. Though he was a Warlock, his ability with long ranged weaponry, sniper rifles and scout rifles had become infamous and proved that the skill was not just within the Hunters' camp. During numerous sharpshooter competitions, he had often been ranked highly, occasionally even winning.

Marksman Odin, some had callen him. A single shot, a single kill. He was a living scalpel, taking out the most critical targets on the battlefield with his rifles. Whenever he had joined a fireteam as a young Guardian, his teammates could be secure in knowing that annoying Fallen Captain was about to have its brain replaced with a hypersonic bullet, or that irritating Hive Wizard was going to be shot out of the air.

Such was his skill that he had earned the title of The Assassin, a designation reserved only for the most skilled shots among the Guardians. Odin had enjoyed living up to it...for a time.

As he aged, he found his skills growing, and at a point he realized that he didn't have to be cautious. He could come to enjoy the combat. He found that his Light was at its most vibrant when he was among the enemy, spilling blood and slaughtering the minions of the Darkness.

Still, just because he now preferred to get in the thick of things didn't mean he had lost those skills. He demonstrated them now as he began to lay down shots into the target with the sniper rifles, landing bullseye after bullseye. He liked the M-92 Mantis. Although it was single shot, it did decent damage for this galaxy's weapons. He wasn't as much of a fan of the M-97 Viper, but that was because it felt too much like an oversized scout rifle in his hands. The large magazine and low damage just felt alien for a sniper rifle. The M-92 Incisor was even odder. He didn't like the three shot burst, even if it was very quick.

The M-98 Widow though... The gun was around the same weight and impact of his own sniper rifles, if much slower firing and larger. The gun was familiar and strange at the same time, with each round requiring a precision shot to be carefully placed, lest he waste the heat sink.

It was certainly an exercise. Although his hands fumbled with putting the sink in after each shot, he soon got used to it, to the point where it became one smooth motion. Soon he was steadily plinking shot after shot into the targets at variable conditions.

After one of these, he took a second to pause and glance around at his surroundings. The first thing he saw was Grunt looking at him and the targets with an intense gaze. The next was the several other people who were watching as well. Some of them looked impressed. Others looked jealous. One even looked... vaguely aroused?

...Well, Odin wasn't touching that with a Longbow Synthesis.

"Not bad," a gravelly voice said. Odin glanced over to see the shopkeeper, arms crossed as he gazed down the range at the targets. "Good grouping, fast speed, every shot on target... I haven't seen many who can do better than you, kid."

The Guardian chuckled, choosing to not comment on the fact that he was probably twenty times the Turian's age. "You haven't seen anything yet."

"Yeah yeah," the shopkeep muttered, "Are you planning on actually buying anything, or are you just going to use the range?"

Odin paused, considering the words. In truth, he didn't really need to buy anything. His weapons as a whole were better than any of these, and even if he did need to use one, the Normandy's replicator could just provide it. It wasn't as if he actually needed a physical copy of them.

Although...

"I don't suppose you have a real one of these?" he asked, holding up the Widow.

The Turian snorted. "Please, do you think I have a military license like that lying around? There's no way I'd be able to sell anti-material rifles like those." He paused. "Although... I do have another rarity you might find interesting."

Odin raised an eyebrow. "Do tell."

The shopkeeper held up a talon. "Give me a bit," he said, walking off into the back. Half a minute passed before he returned, holding the compacted form of a gun in one hand. "Here you go," he said, putting it down on the table in front of Odin.

The Guardian glanced at it, examining it for a second before picking it up. He expanded it, revealing a rather small pistol, one of the smallest he had seen in this galaxy. It looked like a carnifex, although the normal gunmetal grey coloring had been replaced by a white paint, with the letters M-77 printed on the top.

"The Paladin," the shopkeeper said proudly, "Designed for undercover law enforcement who needed a concealed gun that packed a punch. It only has three shots, but each one hits like a sledgehammer. You can hide it practically anywhere too, which makes it great as a holdout weapon."

Odin looked at it, taking in its contours and lines. He hefted it, aiming it down range to get a feel for the weight. It _was_ small, probably fitting in the palm of his hand when compacted. It was fairly heavy for its size, but in a good way. It had a heft to it that made it sit within its wielder's hands comfortably.

"You said it hits hard?" he asked.

The Turian nodded. "I noticed that you prefer the slower guns that had more power. Figured you'd like this. Go ahead and try it out."

The Guardian nodded, fitting a thermal clip into the slot and raising it towards the end of the range. He squeezed the trigger.

The gun roared, and Odin's eyebrows raised as it jumped in his hand, almost as much as one of his handcannons. One of the less powerful ones, admittedly, but a handcannon nonetheless.

Glancing down at the range target, he could see the impact marker. It was somewhat off-center, mostly due to his surprise about the recoil. Nevertheless, by the color of the marker it was one heck of a hit, with more than twice the power of some of the other heavy pistols.

He had to admit, he liked it. "How much?"

The shopkeeper made a face, and Odin cringed internally. That was never a good sign. "Well..." the Turian began, "These things are made in pretty limited numbers, and I had to pull a lot of strings to get one of these, but I kinda like you, so I'll give you a discount. How about... four hundred K?"

Odin paused, hiding his expression. That was a lot of money, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to spend it on a single gun. Given his limited circumstances and limited resources, it may be a better idea to wait and see what opportunities he could come across in the future-

Oh.

Oh wait.

This was credits, not glimmer. And his Ghost had already made that account.

"Yeah, sure," he said to the shopkeeper. "That sounds reasonable."

The Turian blinked. "Wait... really?"

Odin nodded, mentally sending a message to his Ghost to begin forwarding the credits. "Yep, check your omni-tool."

The shopkeeper gave him a wary expression before bringing it up. His eyebrow plates raised up. "Well I'll be damned," he muttered. He looked back at Odin. "The gun's all yours. Enjoy."

(0)(0)(0)

When Odin rounded the corner to the docking bay where the Normandy was located, he was greeted by the sight of a rather annoyed Shepard tapping her foot. "You're late," she said, glaring at him.

He shrugged, a difficult effort with the rather drunk Krogan leaning on his shoulder. "Stuff happened."

The Commander raised an eyebrow, glancing at Grunt. "I can see that... what exactly did you two get yourselves into?"

"Wee went shooting!" Grunt slurred, "And then we walked around, and then we went shopping, and then we found a bar, and then we drank... ryncol!" He laughed boisterously and pointed at Odin. "He drank a... a lot! Ha ha! He's tougher than you humans!"

Odin sighed. "That's the gist of it."

"I... see," Shepard said slowly. She paused. "Wait, you _both_ drank ryncol? Isn't that the Krogan liquor that's almost pure alcohol?"

"Ee-" Grunt let out a belch. "Eeyhup!"

Shepard sighed and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "At least tell me you had it in a mixed drink..."

Odin chuckled. "Nope, had it straight. I'll tell ya, that drink hits _hard._ The fact that I have an actual buzz right now is testament enough to that."

Garrus let out a snort. " _Just_ a buzz?"

The Guardian gave a shrug. "My inner Light neutralizes poisons. In theory anyway. The fact that the ryncol is still hitting me is something."

"Of course it is..." The Commander said with a sigh. "At least tell me that you didn't cause any trouble."

Odin winced. "Well..."

"I punched a **Salarian**!" Grunt shouted proudly.

Shepard glared at the Guardian. "Odin..."

"Okay, we got in one little bar fight," he said, "It wasn't our fault though! I had no idea that Asari was flirting me, and I certainly didn't know she had a girlfriend!"

Garrus laughed. "What is it with you and bar fights?"

Odin shrugged. It may have been that bar fights were a relatively common occurrence back at the Tower. Guardians often got fairly rowdy, and the Crucible only did so much to vent their stress. Sometimes all they needed was a good drink, entertaining conversation, and a good brawl.

"It doesn't matter," Odin said, "How'd you spend your time?"

"Well enough," Shepard said, "Went shopping, saw an old friend, recruited a new member, saved a Quarian, got my Spectre status reinstated, got pissed off at the Council..."

"Basically what's usual routine for us," Garrus said.

Odin nodded slowly. "I see... You have an interesting definition of routine."

Shepard snorted. "As if you're one to talk."

The Guardian laughed. "Fair enough."

"Routine is... stupid!" Grunt shouted.

Odin winced as the words assaulted his eardrums. "We... should probably get Grunt on the ship."

"Good idea," Shepard said, making a face at the drunk Krogan.

Odin hefted Grunt's mass, leveraging it with his Light enhanced strength to carry him to the Normandy airlock. The doors to the decontamination area opened with a hiss, shutting behind the group as they entered.

" _Decontamination in progress_ ," the airlock VI said as sanitizing mist hissed into the room.

Odin sighed slightly, shrugging Grunt off his shoulders to get a welcome relief. He didn't mind carting the drunk Krogan around, and he was certainly strong enough to do it, but it was still a burden and he was glad to have a break. Hopefully Grunt would be able to sober up back in his room and wouldn't have _too_ much of a headache tomorrow. Just as soon as the damned decontamination finished and let the five of them inside the ship...

Wait.

 _Five_ of them?

Odin glanced around, counting the people in the airlock. There was him (1), Shepard (2), Grunt (3), and Garrus (4).

Yet... somehow he sensed a fifth light in the room with them.

Immediately, Odin's senses shifted outwards, probing the room and seeking out this fifth Light. He was a Warlock and his senses were greatly attuned, but trying to contain them within a small room like this was a trial. His Light was simply _too_ strong for details. The best he could do was general directions.

Nevertheless, that may be just enough. He was near the rear of the airlock, with the only visible person near him being Grunt, sitting against the nearby wall. Garrus and Shepard were in front of him, each facing the Normandy's door.

The mysterious fifth presence, however, was near Odin. Right behind and to the left of him, in fact.

The main question now was how he was going to approach this scenario. Should he engage the presence? Should he alert Shepard? Should he just wait and see? There were so many options here. Did he even have time to consider them all?

Then he felt fingers enter one of his rear pockets through his haptic sensors, and all bets went out the window.

He whirled, grabbing the arm of the unknown person and pulling them around, slamming them into the wall. His other hand reached inside his coat, finding the handle of his knife and pulling it out, slamming it into the metal beside their head.

Shepard and Garrus spun, their hands going to their weapons. "Odin what-!" the Commander began.

"I give, I give!" a female voice shouted.

Odin paused as the air in front of him crackled and shimmered, a humanoid shape forming. Like a ghost from the mist, a woman appeared, dressed in a grey catsuit. A hood hid most of her face, the only thing being revealed was a mouth, a strip of purple stretching from her lower lip. "Touchy, eh?" she said in a chipper voice.

Odin raised an eyebrow. "I don't appreciate being stolen from."

The woman shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a bit of a kleptomaniac."

"Or just a thief," Odin pointed out.

"Her name's Kasumi."

Odin blinked, glancing behind him at Shepard. "Huh?"

"Kasumi Goto actually," the woman said, "Professional thief extraordinaire."

"And our newest crew member," Shepard said, crossing her arms and shifting her weight to her back foot. She looked at the newly named Kasumi. "I would appreciate it if you didn't try and steal from the crew."

"Oh, you don't have to worry about me _trying_ ," she said with a bubbly laugh, "Most of the time they wouldn't even notice their things missing." She glanced down at where Odin still had her arm in an iron grip. "I'm usually more successful than this..."

The Guardian narrowed his eyes and began to apply more pressure, squeezing down. Kasumi winced. "Aya-ya-ya! Watch the arm!"

"Odin, that's enough!" Shepard said firmly. "She's part of the crew."

The Guardian glanced at the Commander. He paused for a moment before he loosened his grip, letting Kasumi go. She took a step away, nursing her wrist with her other hand. "You have one heck of a grip," she said. She glanced up at him. "How'd you know I was there, anyways?"

Odin smirked slightly. "I have a few friends who tried to do the same thing." He couldn't count the times that Reisen had tried to prank him or snatch something from his lab while invisible.

The first few times the Hunter had succeeded, eluding Odin's attempts to catch him. It was only after he started installing some more... violent traps that Odin had managed to stop the thefts.

Well, that and killing Reisen a few times, but that was a small price to pay for security. Between that, stealth vandals, and all the Bladedancers in the Crucible, Odin was more than familiar with invisible enemies

"Right..." Kasumi said slowly, taking a step away from Odin. "Well... next time I'll be more careful."

Odin shrugged as the door to the Normandy opened. "Come at me any time," he said, walking into the ship. "The result will just be the same as before."

Kasumi grinned. "We'll see about that."

* * *

 **I hate this chapter.**

 **It's a filler chapter, if I'm going to be honest. Nothing much happens during it other to establish some character and background.**

 **Luckily, we're getting back into the meat of things in the next chapter. I'm actually interested in writing this one, so it should go quicker.**

 **A few things from this chapter are based off my experiences in Destiny. Odin's title is from the old "Legend of You" trailer pre-Taken King. For those who started playing after it was released, the Legend of You was a unique trailer where you would select one of your Guardians, it would read its stats, and then generate a specific title for it. Odin's was Marksman Odin the Assassin, hence the titles above.**

 **The Destiny weapons referenced in the fic above when Odin's testing the ME weapons are actual guns I have in Destiny. The Another NITC was my first legendary primary, and the Matador-64 caused many other Guardians to rage in the Crucible.**

 **All in all, I'm just glad to get this chapter out. I hope you enjoy reading it much more than I enjoyed writing it.**

 **I'll see you all next time.**


End file.
